The Survivors
by tardissoul
Summary: In which: Ryan and Kory's titles are turned from Social to Greaser when they find out about Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston. With cheating, blackmail, love, and fighting added to their lives, they must decide who the survivors will be.
1. Chapter 1

**HAI GUYZ! I'M BAAAACK! So this story is not by _S,_ it is by my friend, _E (_not elaborating any more we don't need any unwanted stalkers.). We are both utterly and completely obsessed with The Outsiders, hence this wonderful piece of literature more commonly referred to as a FANFICTION! Enjoy dears, there'll be more next week! **

**Disclaimer: *falls to knees in defeat, clutching hair* WHYYYY?! WHY CAN I NOT OWN THE OUTSIDERS!? Yeah I don't, sadly. Otherwise, if I did, I would cry. So, yeah. That's basically it. And now a lovely note by the author of this story, _E! _*crowd screams and cheers***

**Note: If you're reading this and have not read the Outsiders, shame on you. Shut your laptop or whatever and go read the dang book. If you have already read the book then I praise you. Keep reading, but just know that Dally and Johnny are back and that will all be explained later in the story. Also, this takes place a year after the book. Dally, at this time, is supposed to be seventeen but I am making him nineteen for reasons. Have Fun Reading.**

**AND NOW, WHAT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR... THE SURVIVORS! **

The Survivors

By: E

Ch. 1

The Delinquent Social

Waking up in class to see the ugly teacher beside me with a ruler in hand is not the kind of thing I would want to happen. But, like all bad things in life, it _has_ to happen. I realize that Chuck, the curly-haired kid next to me, had been shaking my shoulder long enough to make him mildly annoyed. I turn back my head to see the teacher – Ms. Frill – raising a pointy eyebrow. Obviously, she wants me to explain everything myself. I always say these dang teachers expect too much of us.

"Is there a problem, miss?" I ask, wiping the drool off my chin. I can see quite a few kids smiling like, _Finally! Social Studies has gotten interesting._ And I also see Valerie McCartney with her up-turned nose and blonde ponytail giggly and gossiping away about me. I grip the desk and, not without effort, manage to forget about that stick of makeup and hair.

"Yes, Ms. Banker that is the third time you've fallen asleep in class. You've earned yourself a week's worth of detention. Perhaps, you should catch up on your sleep," she says with acid in every word.

Unable to stop myself, I respond by saying, "Perhaps, _you _should make your lessons less boring…_miss._" The class burst out with laughs. Ms. Frill's face turned bright red with anger. She slams the ruler down on my desk and I jerk my hands back, glad she didn't hit them. The class falls silent.

"That's it, Banker. You've just got yourself a pass to the principal's office." She storms to the front of the room and starts writing with her little pink pen on some piece of paper. Having gone through this enough, I know I will be in the office for at least the rest of the period. I grab my bag and walk up with a nice smile to give to Ms. Frill in return for the slip. She absolutely hates the fact that I can make her go crazy but she can't make me mad for even a second. I don't care enough to get angry. I walk down the halls of Will Rogers High school. The path that I have most memorized of the school is the one I am currently on. The teachers send me to the office a lot cuz they think I got a smart mouth, which I couldn't agree with more.

When I reach the office, Principal Statham is already standing in the entryway. "She called, did she?" I ask. He says nothing. He just holds the door open for me and walks to his chair behind his desk. I sit in the chair on the other side of the desk and wait for The Speech.

But Principal Statham just sighs heavily, clasps his hands together, lies them on the desk and says, "I am giving you suspension." I feel my jaw drop and my eyes widen. It is never this serious of a punishment. A couple months of detention, extra assignments. Nothing this drastic. All I can think of is how mad my adoptive parents are gonna be. Suddenly, I realize I am laughing. It's more of a hysterical laugh than a sane one.

"That's a good one, Mr. Statham. Nice joke."

"Does it look like I am joking, Rhianna Banker." His face is very serious and very stern. I swallow hard.

"Awh, c'mon Mr. S. You can't mean that." But I know very well that he means it.

"I'm sorry, but it's my only option. You skip classes. You get in fights – not only with other kids but with teachers as well. You have even vandalized school property. And how many times have you been in here? Far too many for you or I to count. Other schools think I should have sent you away a long time ago, and I would have if it weren't for your grades. Straight A's. Every class you are exceeding. _Even _social studies. And I get a call about you from Ms. Frill every other day."

It takes me a minute to speak, but when I do, I am begging with everything I've got. It's not that I even care about school, but my adoptive parents do. If I get suspended, they'll send me off to boarding school or something, and I can't have that. That would mean that I won't be able to take care of Kory. I can't leave her. There is still so much she needs to learn. Stuff that school can't provide.

"Mr. Statham, please. One more chance? I promise I'll shape up. I'll attend every class. I'll try to be polite. I'll even clean all graffiti from the school premises. Just please don't suspend me. Give me detention for a month. Two months. Just…please." I can see the principal thinking about it. He truly doesn't want me to go. My intelligence makes his school look good. But my attitude makes it look worse. If he can fix my issues – make me behave properly – then I will be a benefit for the school. The benefit is needed. All lot of people's grades at this school don't look too hot.

Finally, Mr. Statham lets out a nasty breath of air, his triple chin giggling in my wake. "Alright. One more chance. But if you mess up once – even if it's just throwing someone's bag in the trash can, I'll have you suspended."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Alright. Phew. Okay. Thanks Mr. S. You're a great man. Really. Just cut down on the cupcakes."

"Ms. Banker," he says in a warning tone.

"Right. Try to be polite." I give him a thumbs up and start to get out of my chair.

"You're forgetting something."

"Am I?"

"Three weeks of detention. And you can spend the rest of this period cleaning graffiti off of the walls in the hallway outside of your Social Studies class." I sigh and pick up the cleaning supplies on the way out of the office.

Cleaning paint off walls in an orange vest is embarrassing enough. Try doing it outside your classroom for fifteen minutes. I can feel the amused eyes of my classmates watching me through the glass window that looks into the hall. I can especially feel Valerie's. Only god knows how much I hate that twit. Most popular girl in school asks you if you wanna be friends in third grade. Say no if you wanna end up like me. Constantly going on about how I'm so dumb and hideous. First of all, my grades are twenty five percent better than hers. Second of all, half the guys at this high school are constantly flirting with me. I don't think it's because I've got a nice personality. I've got layered and wavy, golden brown hair that goes down to my waist and chocolate brown eyes. I'm pretty tan since I like to be in the sun. I've got curves that I don't really care about and all that stuff. I've got a few tiny little freckles that no one ever notices high up on my cheeks and high cheekbones. The one thing I am sad about is my height. I'm stuck at 5 foot 2 ½. I really wish could have gotten an inch or two taller, but we don't all get what we want. My name is Rhianna but I go with the name Ryan. I'm sixteen, – turning seventeen in ten days from now – at the end of my third year of high school, and I sometimes like to pretend that the reason I don't sleep much at night is because I am an insomniac. That would be much better than the alternative.

Anyway, I was cleaning paint. There weren't many paint marks on the walls. Just a few here and there. Some weird little paintings made by weird people. And when I say weird, I mean _weird._ I notice some greasers who have also been sent to clean paint. Am I Greaser? No. Not really. I've got the mind and attitude for it, but my adoptive parents are rich and we live on the West side. So, technically, I'm a Soc. I just get in trouble a lot.

The bell rang, marking the end of fourth period. Time for lunch. People burst out of classrooms, most making snarky comments and humiliating movements with their body toward me. Trying my best not to beat someone up, I walk to the office and drop off the cleaning supplies. Then I meet Kory at our lunch table at the back of the outside cafeteria.

I arrive first and sit on the table with my feet on the bench. When Kory comes, I can tell by her stiff posture and tight mouth that she heard that I had a trip to the office. She doesn't mind the fact that I get in trouble. She's just humiliated by all the teasing she gets about her adopted sister who acts like a Greaser. I have tried to find a way to make the teasing stop, but I only make it worse by getting in fights. The only way to stop it is to stop being a troublemaker. And I have recently made the choice to try that.

"What happened?" Kory asks as she sits down and lays out her feet along the bench. "That's the second time this week, Ryan. And it's Wednesday."

"Hey, in my defense, that lady was asking for it. Her soul is as cold as ice. Plus, I didn't do much. Just an insult toward her precious lessons."

"Everyone says you fell asleep!" she says in exasperation.

"Yeah, well, her lessons were boring. People should think of this as a favor. I have proved that Ms. Frill's lessons are boring by falling asleep and saying it to her face. Now she knows that she needs to improve. She improves. Her lessons become less boring. People don't fall asleep in her class. Everybody wins."

She smiles up at me. "Always an upside to things, huh?" I love the way Kory and I talked; like friends. Not like people who were forced to be sisters. But I love her the way someone would love their younger blood sister. I protect her and feel bad when she feels bad.

Korean is a girl in the shadows. She tries not to be noticed. She's afraid of attention. But she has a rebellious side to her. She will sometimes back-talk her parents – which she will get in trouble for – and she's adventurous. She loves books and wishes she could have the exciting life of the characters in her books. She admires Greasers – I find her insane for that. She thinks they're brave and better than any Social any day. She thinks they're tuff. Yes, tuff. She picked that little word up from some over-heard Greaser conversation. I've tried to steer her away from Greaser life, – for reasons of my own – but she is always interested in it. She is about two years younger than me, at the age of fifteen. She is in her second year at high school since she skipped a grade because of her smartness. She has a messy thick braid with dark red hair pocking out of place. Curious green eyes were kept behind small square glasses that she happened to forget today, yesterday, and the day before that. Her pale skin had, surprisingly, only a few freckles here and there. She was a slight bit taller than me, but I still felt protective of her. Korean and I were the only girl Socs that wore jeans at this school. Which made Kory a little uncomfortable from the attention, but she says she'd rather stand out then wear a disastrous skirt. But her parents were under the impression that she wore a skirt every day. We dressed more like Greasers, but we didn't dress skimpy like the girls. Sometimes I thought that I rubbed off on Kory, but she probably would dress like this even if weren't a part of her family.

I smile back at my adoptive sister and confirm, "Always." Then my smile disappears. "But I gotta tell you Korean, that sometimes it is pretty dang hard to make the perspective of some situations happy. Especially when that situation is blonde and wearing a poodle skirt." With confusion set in her brow, she follows my line of sight to see Valerie and her girls. Kory slouches in disappointment. I don't do anything, trying to play it cool.

The girls approach us, obviously someone is gonna get hurt here. Emotionally or physically. But then I think about possible suspension and I groan. "What?" says Valerie, "did that ugly orange vest effect your ability to speak correctly?" She giggles and so do her little disciples.

I grin. "No, Val. It's just that your fat ugly face is now in my presence. If you don't mind, could you move it to…Texas?"

She purses her lips and puts her hand on her hip. "Someone's got their underwear in a twist."

"Yeah. And it ain't me." We share a long glare at each other. Finally, the girls go sit at the empty table next to ours and purposely whisper loudly about me. Never about Kory. They know that I would punch them twice as hard if it were about her. Kory and I try to ignore them as we sit in silence. She eats her sandwich and I eat nothing. Kory offers me the other sandwich that she had packed for me. But I turn it down; not in the mood for food.

I catch Kory looking at the Greaser, Ponyboy Curtis, who was exiting the school for lunch break. Kory has a huge crush on Ponyboy. And she knows I know, but every time I bring it up, she denies it. Ponyboy Curtis. Last year he got himself into all sorts of trouble. I can't stop myself from thinking, _he knew Dally._ A big clump of tears form in my throat. I push it back and force my mind to change the topic. I catch a few words of the gossip at the other table.

"Look at her shoes."

"They're so dirty and torn."

"It's like she _wants_ to be a Greaser."

"She's animal."

"Better watch out. I hear she has rabies."

A wave of anger washes over me and I grip the edge of the table to keep from socking one of those girls.

"Hey Val," I call. "Shut up, will ya? I know you have a low self-esteem but that doesn't mean you have to dampen mine." I know that she blushes. I just smile with glee.

Suddenly, I'm envying Ponyboy Curtis and all the rest of the Greasers for being able to just waltz out of this school at lunch. I would do that too, but I would hear a lot of yelling from my adoptive parents.

"Look at her ugly face."

"It's not even wearing makeup."

_That's a new one, _I think, _someone calling me 'it'._

"And she prefers to be called by a boy's name."

"Look at its pants."

"It wears them because it is a slut." No doubt that was Valerie. Her high-pitched voice isn't hard to miss. And yet, it is not the rudest comment ever said. I close my eyes and think, _please let me just get through this one day. Then I can resign or quit or whatever._

But no such luck. The last thing I can ever think of happening, happens. Kory jumps up and off the bench and marches herself right in front of Valerie. Valerie actually has the respect to stand up for her.

"Hey twit," Kory says to Valerie. She raises a perfect eyebrow. For a second, I think – I hope – that Kory will stand down, but then she says, "No one calls my sister a slut." And then she plants a good old smack across the other girl's cheek.

My eyes widen at this newfound violence in Kory. I go up behind her and grab her by the shoulders; trying to pull her away. She stumbles back a few steps but then Valerie recovers from her shock. Now Kory feels the need to stand her ground. Valerie approaches fuming with rage, and shoves her into me. We fall down and my head hits the floor with this awful _thump _and my vision spins. Valerie's standing above us, with a new red mark on her cheek, spits out, "You're just like her, Korean. An _animal. _Be ashamed."

I try get up, ready to slug the daylights out of this pain in the butt, when Kory pushes Valerie back. They get into this whole fight – Valerie uses more of a destroying spider webs sort of technique while Kory throws more punches and kicks – that is impossible for me to stop without getting poked in the eye.

Soon, a crowd swarms around the two of them; giving them feedback like _ooh_ and _ahhh_ and _ouch. _Obviously, the Greasers still at school are thoroughly enjoying this, and I am just standing on the sidelines, helpless. I can't do anything, for my head is still swimming with colors and objects. Fighting through the grogginess, I observe that Kory seems to have the advantage of height, but she isn't as confident about her decisions and gets knocked to the ground a few times. I try to interfere once or twice, but I end up on the floor; unable to keep my balance.

Then I see some big guy – probably Valerie's football-playing boyfriend, Eric – who gets in between Kory and Valerie, and hits Kory's face. Kory falls to the ground but her hands stop her from hitting her head like me. Suddenly, all the pain and dizziness disappears. I jump to my feet. Kory gets back up, as well. Just as Eric is about to strike again, I dash to intercept and grab his fist to stop it from going any further.

Eric blinks a few times. He's obviously confused about how I moved so quickly. "Don't underestimate the abilities of a tiny girl," I advise him. And I twist his arm, which kind of turns his body so that I have an opportunity to kick him in the behind. He staggers forwards and I look behind me to see Kory. She looks fine except for a bruise that is already starting to form around her left eye from where Eric hit her.

I turn back to see that Eric is in front of me again. Extremely mad and humiliated. Adrenaline kicks in and we both throw a few punches at each other. But it is relatively hard for us to do any damage to each other. I dodge too quickly to be hit. And when I manage to hit him, my small hands barely do anything. A few times, I make the wrong move and he throws his fist in to my stomach, making me feel like vomiting. You can imagine, it also makes it hard to breathe. After he gets me in the ribs, he throws his arms around me, trapping my arms. I struggle to get free, but he is really strong. Performing one of my favorite moves, I step on his foot really hard. He let's go of me for a second and spin around to punch his face. When his face jerks to the side, I kick his stomach and he stumbles backwards. Then I see I flash of red behind him and I focus on it. Kory is standing behind him. She looks like she's gonna punch him, kick him, do something to him. I try to warn her not to, but no words come out because the huge mass of Eric's fist slams into my face and I am thrown back onto the floor.

I lay on my back, my head turned to the side, waiting for the ringing in my ears to subside. Through the fuzziness, I see a pair of shiny black loafers and the hem of fancy looking dress pants. My eyes slide upward to see the face of Principal Statham.

_Boy, am I in trouble._

**So... what'd ya think? If you would like to show the author any appreciation, questions, comments, concerns, characters you would like to kill off (okay, maybe not the last one), or even suggestions about the story please feel free to review.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! It's here! The Moment you've all been waiting for (drumroll please)...THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE SURVIVORS! Brought to you by Tardissoul Inc. **

**Disclaimer: Do you really think that if I owned The Outsiders I would be writing fanfiction? (Well, maybe...but that's beside the point). All rights to The Outsiders and any of the characters belong to Ms. S.E. Hinton. **

**I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed our lovely story! You guys make me happy for the world!**

**WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? READ ON!**

Ch. 2

Yelling and The Art of Knife-Throwing

I waited outside of Principal Statham's office for half an hour before I saw Ryan sauntering down the hallway. Mr. Statham didn't want to yell his guts out until Ryan and I were together. He claimed, "It would be better if the three of us had this conversation in a group."

The blow that Ryan took from Eric knocked her out. She was carried off to the nurse's office and obviously has only just woken up. When she sees me, her facial expression turns from absent minded to disapproval. Her eyes narrow and her lips slide into a frown. I avert my eyes in shame. Shame that only Ryan and my parents can make me feel.

She sits down on the chair next to me. We remain in silence for a while. Then she says, "Well, the good thing is I don't have a concussion."

"That's good," I murmured. I blink and wince as my swollen eye throbs.

Ryan gives one of her sighs and asks, "Why did you do it?" She slouches forward and rests her chin in her hands, her elbows on her knees. I pull me feet up and hug my knees to my chest.

"Do what?" I don't even try to sound like I don't know what she's asking.

"You know what I am talking about, Korean."

Fortunately, I'm saved from answering the when the office door opens up and the very round Mr. Statham barks at us to come in. Ryan and I groan in unison and follow commands. Ryan sits in the chair on the left and I sit in the right chair. Ryan props her feet up on the desk, but when Mr. S grunts in disapproval, she sits crisscross style and raises her hands in a sign of surrender.

The three of us sit and look at each other for some dreadful long minutes. We watch as Mr. S's face gets redder and redder as his anger builds up. I would laugh at his multicolored chins but the situation is too serious and suspenseful. And just as Mr. Statham is near exploding, he abruptly stands up and bursts out with a gust of ireful words. I have mixed feelings about the fact that the words were aimed at Ryan.

"HOW DOES SOMEONE GET SENT TO THE OFFICE TWICE IN ONE DAY?" I jump in my seat from the sudden ferocity of his words. Even Ryan seems a little taken aback from this new side of Mr. Statham. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself after his apparent loss of self-control. He starts his speech again. "Why did you promise me you would do better when, in fact, you would just pick a fight to be – literally – thrown at my feet for me to handle again? Why? After you promised?"

"I don't know, sir," she whispers. I know what she is doing. She's trying to take most of the blame so I wouldn't have to be the one caught up in the flames. She won't admit that I was the one who started the fight.

"You don't know?!" the principal booms, as if it's the most outrageous thing he's ever heard. Well, you _must_ know that I have to suspend you now!" My mouth drops open and I jerk my head to look at Ryan. Her head is hung in defeat and from what I see, her eyes are weary and apprehensive. Her whole appearance is crestfallen.

"I know, sir. I won't go back on my word."

"But…" I whisper, still looking at Ryan. "But, sir, I was the one." I force myself to meet the gaze of Mr. S. His look unnerves me. It was a look of someone who wanted to blame us for destroying the world.

"The one who what?" His words come out harsher than he probably means them to be.

"The one who started the fight. I started it." His face changes as he fights what I assume to be mixed feelings. "If anything, blame me, not her. She was only trying to protect me." His brows furrow like he wants to believe me but can't

"I don't care who started the fight. I care about who was in it. I'll get to you in a minute Korean, but momentarily, I have to take care of your sister." The way he says 'take care of' reminds me of the way Valerie and her girls were calling Ryan an animal. So, naturally, I am just about ready to smack the chins of Mr. Statham off his face. He continues rambling on to Ryan. "I agreed to give you one more chance. This is it. You used that chance. Now I have to suspend you." I realize now that there is no chance that I can get Ryan out of suspension. "You understand that I have to do that, Rhianna?"

"Yes." She says that one word so calmly that it shocks me. Ryan isn't one for giving up. Sure she looks upset about this whole thing, but the Ryan I know would go down fighting. Even if it is just something about school.

"That's it?! You're just gonna give up?!" I demand furiously.

"Yes, Korean. That's it. The end of the game." She looks at me intently. A look that says, _don't push this any further or I'll skin you. _I crash back in my chair entirely stunned by the turn of events. It seems so wrong to see her give up. That isn't the girl I look up to everyday. That is the girl who demanded she get four piercings – two on each ear.

Apparently, Mr. S isn't finished with his rampage. "I don't want to do this, Rhianna. Believe me I don't. Sending you away makes me look really bad. The fact that one of my best students has to be sent on suspension is, frankly, embarrassing. And other schools will be talking about how I kept you for so long when they told me from the beginning that you should be long gone. I tried so hard to fix you, but you just let me down. I hope you learn your lesson, Rhianna. And if you don't, don't you dare bother coming back." Ryan just sits in her seat taking every single blast one after another. Then Mr. S. turns on me. "And _you_!" he practically yells. "I would expect this from her" – he points a plump finger at Ryan – "but not from you. You haven't had one single mess up in the three years you've been here. Why have you – all of the sudden you…" Mr. S finally seemed at a loss of words.

"Mr. Statham, I didn't do it for no reason. I did it because Valerie McCartney was saying mean things about my sister." I kind of sound similar to a first grader tattle-telling on some other kid. "Speaking of Valerie, why aren't you punishing her and her big boyfriend? They were part of the fight too. In fact, I think it is best if only they get punished!"

"It is not your decision if other kids around here do or don't get punished! And aren't you the one who told me you started the fight? I don't think that should go on unpunished. You'll join your sister in detention today, after school. And you'll have the rest of the week in detention as well! And that is final. No buts or pleas for a second chance. I am putting down my foot!" To emphasize it even more, he stomps his foot. "I will be notifying your parents." My heart sinks a little as I realize what has happened and what will happen. My parents will be completely and utterly angry with me. I have let them down…

~ O ~

Mr. S sends me to my sixth period class after he gives me a detention slip. Ryan needs to stay behind to fill out paperwork. I don't really pay any attention in class. I mean, who pays attention in math? It's not like we're gonna need to know this later on. Instead my mind is Elsewhere. I keep thinking about how my parents will react to this. I find myself hoping that my parents will let me off with a warning, but that was it. I am only hoping. I wouldn't care that I screwed up if it weren't for my parents. They're really strict about everything. I can't stand to let them down. When I let them down, I have this feeling like I am unwanted in the family.

Of course, Ryan can slack off all the time. They never really care about what she does. The Mothership – what Ryan and I call my mother – says she lets her do certain things so that the whole adoption thing would be easier on everyone. The Parental Units – my mother and my father – have talks with Ryan from time to time, but there isn't much to them. I usually eavesdrop – Ryan knows I do and she doesn't mind – and my parents seem pretty uncomfortable talking to Ryan. The Mothership once tried to convince Ryan to wear a dress, but when The Mothership finally worked it on her, she tore it in three pieces, claiming it irritated her too much. The Parental Units don't really think she's wild, in fact, she isn't. Every social claims that Ryan is a Greaser at heart but she isn't and they all know it. They just want to make fun of her. She has more manners than most Socials, she just doesn't always use them. She acts like a Social except for her mouthy words and reputation for getting in fights. And also the clothes. But she doesn't dress too insane. She wears jeans, beat up shoes, but her shirt is mainly always of higher class. My guess of why Ryan acts and dresses the way she does is because she was raised to be a Greaser. If The Parental Units hadn't found Ryan outside our house when she was ten, – nearly eleven - then she would most definitely be a Greaser.

Anyway, Ryan doesn't get in trouble with The Parental Units that much, and when she does she doesn't really care. Although, this time, I think she does. There was just something about the way she was handling it. I mean, of course she cares if she gets suspended, but I used to think of her as a person who believes that this school needs her more than she needs it. Now, I still believe that. She doesn't really care about the school, but something else. Perhaps, she finally cares about what The Parental Units think. Maybe, it's more than that though.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of school, I go down to an English room and sit in a desk for detention. It's filled with a lot of Greasers who are supposed to be there but have decided to ditch. I'm glad to see Valerie and Eric walk in with slips and frowns on their faces. I make a point of sitting next to Valerie just so I can see her scowl.

The bell rings again for detention. The teacher gets up from her desk and says to the six people in here, "Today, you are going to write an essay on why you got sent to detention –''

The teacher gets interrupted when the door opens and Ryan walks in. "Late," the teacher tells her.

Ryan turns to her with a smile and says, "As usual." She hands the teacher the slip in her hand and sits down on the left side of me.

"As I was saying before I was interrupted –''

The sound of screeching metal disturbs the teacher from her train of thought. Everyone turns to see Ryan scooting her desk around to get 'comfortable', purposely distracting everybody. She stops and looks up at the teacher who has her hand on her hip and an eyebrows raised.

"Oh, don't mind me," Ryan insists with another one of her smiles. "Please, carry on."

"Anyhow," the teacher says with a very annoyed voice, "Today, you're going to write an essay on why you got sent to detention and how you should act better in the future. It will be at least one and a half pages. If you finish before the detention bell rings, read a book or sit quietly." The teacher writes on the chalkboard: NO TALKING. Then she sits behind her desk again and starts reading some book. The class starts to get pieces of paper out, but I notice Ryan searching in a smaller pouch of her bag that she kept her gum and keys in. Sure enough, she gets out two sticks of gum and puts them in her mouth. She chews loudly with her lips wide apart. Some people start laughing. The teacher, though, is furious already.

"Spit your gum out!" she commands. Ryan shrugs and spits the gum right onto the floor. "That's it! Pick the gum up, throw it in the trash and wait outside in the hall until I tell you to come back in." Ryan carelessly follows as told. I am, once again, surprised by Ryan's behavior. On the other hand, I can't keep myself from silently laughing at my best friend. On the way out, Ryan turns and winks to me and I offer her an amused smile.

The class continues their work and five minutes has gone by when the teacher lets Ryan back in. She slides into her seat without a word and gets out a paper and a pen. She must really want to annoy the teacher if she's doing her work in ink.

"What's gotten into you?" I whisper to her. She smiles recklessly at me.

"It's my last day of school for the entire year," she whispers back, "might as well make the most of it."

"Mr. Statham suspended you for the rest of the year?" I was a little shocked, but if Ryan had always been acting the way she was today, I gotta say, she had it coming. Anyway, there is only a month and a week left of school. She isn't going to miss much. I doubt that Mr. Statham even wants her to be homeschooled for that time.

"Yeah. Isn't it great?" But I know she is faking the act. She _is _upset about her suspension, she just doesn't want to show it. Ryan turns back to her work. Needing to make more trouble for herself, Ryan starts repeatedly clicking her pen. _Click, click, click._

"Will you quit clicking your pen?" the teacher asks in a fake polite voice.

"Sorry, ma'am." Ryan has to awkwardly click her pen again so that she can use it. The small group of delinquents giggle to one another until the teacher whacks the board where it says NO TALKING with her pointer stick. The class writes in peace for a while. I finish my paper in no time and get out Gone with the Wind to read. Then, I notice the smile on Ryan's face. I'm not the only one it disturbed.

"Why are you smiling?" hisses Valerie in a low whisper.

Ryan looks up from her work, leans over me and cheerfully declares, "Isn't it obvious, darling? Receiving detention has put you in such a good mood, it's contagious." I didn't pay much attention to it before, but Valerie looked as depressed as a left shoe without the right.

She scowls saying, "You know what Ryan, you can just go –''

"Um…Ms. Gluck?" calls Ryan, raising her hand. The teacher looks up from her book with a frown. Ryan points her finger at Valerie. "She's bothering me." Ryan says it in such a three year old way, I have to laugh. Ms. Gluck – I'm guessing Ryan only knows her name because she has been in detention too many times – strikes the board again with her ruler: NO TALKING. Ryan and Valerie go back to their work – Valerie with another ugly scowl.

After a while, I somehow get bored with reading Gone with the Wind for the tenth time – which seems a little impossible to me – and I look over at Ryan's essay to see what she's written so far. It goes a little something like this:

Today has been a pretty good day. Sure, I got suspended, detention, a near concussion, a shiner, and graffiti clean-up duty. On the other hand, I got to help a teacher be a better teacher, smack-talk Valerie McCartney, beat up her dumbass boyfriend and skip half my classes so that I could hang out with Mr. S. Who wouldn't want a day like that?

I got sent to detention because my adoptive mother says I'm a 'troublemaker'. I don't mean that I got sent to detention _because_ she said that. I mean that I got sent to detention because I am a troublemaker…and my life is just very sucky right now.

Do I think I deserve detention? Yes and No. No because I have messed up A LOT this year. I don't think detention is a bad enough punishment for me. Why not try suspending me? Oh, wait. You already did. ßSorry, that was a cheesy joke. J Yes, because I have messed up A LOT this year.

What can I do to improve? Stop being such a weird little smart mouth. But since I can't do that, (I have no control over myself) I am going to treat this as a diary and tell you what happened today.

Dear Diary,

Today was an interesting day for me. Since no one else understands/cares/wants to hear about what happened, I'll tell you. Valerie happened. And Mr. S. And the boyfriend. (Not Mr. S's boyfriend. Valerie's boyfriend) And Ms. Frill. But now that I think about it, I only feel like telling you about what went down between Val, Eric, Kory, and I.

Val was being so mean and Kory and I didn't want to put up with her drama anymore, so Kory beat her up. Then Eric got all angry and defensive and started punching Kory. I beat up Eric. That is the whole damn story. The End. J

When I finish reading it, I start cracking up. Ms. Gluck glares at me and I indicate my book. She gives me an incredulous look like, _What could possibly be so funny about Gone with the Wind?_

Ryan leans toward me and murmurs in my ear, "So how was my essay? It was good, yeah?"

"Oh, your best piece of literature yet. But, uh, you aren't serious about turning it in, are ya?" Ryan gives a shrug like, _whatever happens, happens._ "You just don't care anymore, huh?" Her eyes meet mine with a sharp intensity, saying, _we're not talking about this right now._ She then shuffles through her bag and brings out her book, Pride and Prejudice. I don't know what Ryan found in the book. I mean, personally, I love the book. Except, Ryan is one of the last people I would expect to read the book. As you might be able to tell, she doesn't appeal to me as a girl that is in love with love. It wouldn't be the first time she proved me wrong, though.

I decide to doodle on my notebook. Several pairs of eyes, swirly designs, but mainly Japanese characters from those weird comics. Ryan says I have a talent when it comes to art, but I don't believe her. My reasons for not believing? She also says that my artistic skills can save my life, that and books. How can art save my life? Why books? Books are great and all – they save my life emotionally – but what good can they do in a crisis, except for maybe causing the bad guy to fall down a flight of stairs. Let's be serious. When are we actually gonna need to throw a book at a ninja? And the scary thing was, Ryan was serious when she said this. No smile or laugh. Straight face and truthful eyes.

The bell rings and we get up from our desks. Handing her essay to the teacher, she leaves the room with another snarky comment. We start walking to the parking lot and I decide to say something I really shouldn't, "What are we going to do? The Parental Units are going to be so mad at us."

"Screw The Parental Units," she turns on me with a hiss. "Right now, you better worry about how mad _I _am with _you. _And don't you call your mom and dad 'The Parental Units' in a circumstance as intense as this one. People might think you're not taking this seriously." Now _we are going to have the conversation,_ I think to myself. _In the car where no one can hear us yelling at each other with words that go at eighty miles per hour. _She opens the passenger seat door to her light blue 1964 Chevrolet Impala. "Get in, Korean," she says harshly. I flinch a little. When she calls me by my full name, it's either because she's in an extremely cross mood or she is in a very happy state. I reckon it isn't the latter. It hurts when she calls me Korean. I say that I prefer it, but secretly I love that she cares enough about her lame-as-heck younger, adoptive sister to come up with a nickname like Kory. I miserably slide into the car. Ryan slams the door shut, stalks to the driver's side, and grouchily sits in her seat. She turns the keys in the ignition and starts pulling out of the school parking lot and I wonder how her mood could possibly change that fast. She was all smiles and laughs in class, but now it's like someone has died and she's blaming me.

Just as the car is about to glide out of the parking lot and Ryan starts her rant, some kid Ryan's age runs up – with his books and bag and khakis – to the car. Ryan stops the car and I crank down the window.

"Hi. Guys, I got caught up with some extracurricular activities and I missed my ride. Any chance I can ride with you?" asks George our nerdy next-door neighbor. This happens a lot. Ryan gets detention and George has stuff to do, so all three of us end up going home in the Impala about an hour late.

"You know there's always room for you, George," says Ryan, trying to keep her voice from revealing her annoyance. George has always been one of the nicer people at school. I like to think of it like this: half of the Socs are on our side and half are on Valerie's. The Greasers don't really pick a side since they think it's just a little feud between two Social broads. George gets in the backseat and Ryan zooms down the street. She doesn't talk about anything probably cuz she doesn't want to accidently start yelling at me in front of one of the only friends/allies we have. George looks uncomfortable in the back as Ryan speeds _way_ above the speed limit, but I'm used to it. She only speeds when she's mad or depressed which has been quite often, lately. Don't ask me why. I don't exactly know.

"Could you please slow down, Ryan," George speaks up.

She slows down to within the limit. "Sorry, George."

He nods. "So, I heard that you gals got in some serious trouble today. What are you going to tell your parents?"

Ryan opens her mouth but I speak before she can. "No offense, George, but that's a conversation between Ryan and I." He looks a little hurt, but I'm sure he'll get over it.

We pull up in our driveway, and George gets out with a mention of his gratitude. Ryan unlocks the door to the house and holds it open for me. She drops her bag randomly by the door where it will probably stay until our parents get back. With my parents on a vacation in Florida, Ryan hardly puts away her things. She walks into the kitchen opens the freezer, and throws me a frozen steak.

"Put that on your eye," she says hastily. I had almost forgotten about my black eye. Ryan alternates from putting a steak on her bruised cheekbone from where Eric punched her and on the bump on her head from where she fell. The steak made my eye water but somehow makes it feel better. She stalks out of the kitchen. We face each other in the middle of the living room of the very fancy house.

"First, I just want to say, what the hell?" she says in a weirdly contained mood.

"Be more specific."

"Why did you pick a fight with Valerie when it wasn't yours to pick, in the first place? And why, why, didn't you just stop when you could have?" Desperation and anxiety are edging into her voice.

"Valerie was being so incredibly annoying and rude and stupid! I'm surprised you didn't bash her head in before I did!" My voice is rising quickly. I am just starting to realize how completely angry my parents will be. They'll probably ground me for a month. They expect too much from me. If Ryan is going to get so worked up about this, then my parents will be a whole lot worse.

"I was trying not to get expelled!" she yells, exasperated.

"Well, I get that now," I tell her, softly. I had not realized her motivation for not shutting Valerie up at the time. Now I feel guilty. "Sorry."

"Well, sorry doesn't fix it! Sorry doesn't get me back into high school, does it? It doesn't prevent me from going to boarding school, does it? It doesn't heal the two – not one but _two_ – I injuries on my head, does it?" The way she yells at me hurts like a dagger to the back. All I want is her approval. Just for her to actually think I am something in this damned world that isn't awful.

_How could she be so rude?_ Anger rises within me and blurt out, "Oh, what does it matter to you anyway? Why do you even care?" I throw my steak on the ground and she does the same.

"_Why do I care that I got suspended?_ Is that seriously the question you just asked me?"

I flush with anger. "It's not like you give a f***k about school! You think that it's below you! That you don't need it! So why do you care so much?!" She looks appalled by my choice of language. I hardly ever cursed.

"Because of Mom and Dad!" I know that she hates calling them by names that made them seem like they are her parents. "BECAUSE WHEN THEY COME BACK, I'LL BE SENT TO BOARDING SCHOOL!"

"Why do you care!?" I am tired from asking the same question over and over again, but she won't answer me.

"BECAUSE THAT WILL MEAN I WILL BE SENT AWAY FROM YOU! I WON'T BE ABLE TO PROTECT YOU," she screams as if it's obvious.

I say probably the worst thing I can possibly say at that moment. "Why would I want you to protect me?" I whisper. As soon as say the words, I wish I could swallow the words back up.

She flinches as if I had slapped her. Her face contorts from emotional hurt. She throws her hands up, in defeat. "Alright. I'm sorry." Her words are said gently, but the next time she speaks, they're full of bitterness. "I completely forgot you could handle Eric all on your own. I forgot that you could get through the day of being bullied all by yourself. I forgot that you don't need or want me in your life." She turns and walks up stairs. I follow. She slams the door to her room. I open the door and enter. She sits with her legs dangling from her balcony. I sit beside her.

"I'm sorry. But my words were supposed to be taken differently."

"I know they were. But it's what you meant." For a moment, I am filled with self-loathing, for I did mean that. When I said it, I wanted Ryan to know that I could get along without her. But, in truth, I really can't. Tears trickle from the corners of Ryan's eyes and we both look out at the already relaxing sun.

But I still don't understand something. "Why does it make you upset that I fought Valerie?" I ask as gently as I can manage.

Her expression turns incredulous once again. "What," she says flatly. "Did you expect me to be happy because you picked a fight with a Social who's two years older than you? Did you think that I wanted you to get detention?"

"No, it's just – you fight all the time. That's what you do. I thought that you would be proud and happy for me. Because I did what you do."

Her face softens up, but her eyes turn colder and more distant. "Pride and happiness are to very different things, Korean. I am so incredibly disappointed that you had your first actual fight…but at the same time I couldn't be prouder. You fought well. With your fists and staying on the balls of your feet. For a person who hasn't ever gotten in a fight, you fight outstandingly." She smiles faintly, and I feel better about myself a little. But her smile quickly fades away. "But you have to know, Kory, I would give almost anything for you to not be like me."

I frown at that. "What do you mean?"

Her wet eyes look at me. "It's not a life I would choose for myself, Kory. So I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. Especially, not my little sister. There is a line that pure people keep behind so that they won't be condemned as 'bad'. I have crossed that line, Kory. There's too many things I've seen – too many things I've done. But you have not crossed the line. You're still pure. I'd like it to stay that way."

Her words still leave me bewildered, but I can't stand to hear her be like this anymore. "Alright, stop. Just stop it. You're talking like you killed someone. I may not know what happened to you before The Parental Units adopted you, but I _know_ that you weren't bad. You were ten back then. What could a little, innocent ten-year-old do that could condemn them as "bad"?" Ryan's words were starting to scare me. They reminded me of what my parents told me about Ryan right after she came into the family. How she was delirious and blamed herself for things that made no sense whatsoever. The Parental Units said that she used to mutter things about a place in Texas and New York.

Ryan sighed a long and weary sigh. After a few minutes, she said, "You know The Parental Units are gonna kill us? It's not gonna be like a punishment that you have ever had before where they band you from doing something or ground you for a month. They're gonna be really serious this time. They'll yell at you for a long while. Then they'll find some extreme punishment for you to have. Probably, they'll sign you up for some summer camp for the delinquents."

I felt my mouth open in horror. I won't be able to bare all that shame. When The Parental Units yell at me, it makes me wish I was never born at all. Cuz I just want them to accept me. But I am the child they never wanted. Sure, they wanted children. But they were hoping for a child that listened to every order they gave her without a complaint. And now that their blood child has had a big mess up for the first time, they will explode.

"Why will they be that harsh?"

"They don't want you to turn into me. They think that they did something wrong with me at the beginning so they are gonna try to do better. Rotten way to do it. Those camps only toughen you up. You need something where you sing camp songs and do Ring-Around-the-Rosie." Her attempt at a joke is pointless. I feel the sting behind my eyes. The tears threaten to come pouring out. My limp trembles. Ryan puts her arm around me. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. I'll help you get through it all. Right up until the day I die. Even when I'm at boarding school. You can write me letters and I'll write you back."

I turn my head and start sobbing into her neck. She pats my back in a rhythmic pattern. She keeps whispering in my ear that it'll be okay and that we'll go through this together. I find myself wishing to be more like Ryan. She's able to handle a situation like this without breaking down. I feel pathetic. Ryan doesn't look at this as a big problem. She believes worse things can happen in life. But for someone like me – someone who is so completely normal – it doesn't get much worse than this. I keep looking at the wall phone outside in the hall. Surely, Mr. Statham called our house in Florida. Surely, he already talked to The Parental Units. Any minute now, that phone would ring and Ryan and I will find ourselves in the heat of trouble.

After a while of crying, I tell Ryan that I want to go outside. I just lie on my stomach, on the carpeted floor and, a few times, pound the floor with my fists. Ryan lies on her back quietly. When I can't take the suspense anymore, I get up and start rummaging through Ryan's drawers. I know that Ryan's head snaps to look in my direction. I get out the multiple switchblades that Ryan has kept hidden.

"How d'you know about those?" Ryan mumbles.

"Oh, please," I scoff, my voice still a little shaky. "I know that you practice throwing them at a target almost every day. You polish them every Thursday. And you overpaid a Greaser who was of age so that he could buy them for you when you were twelve." I turn to look at her and she's staring up at the ceiling, either questioning her existence or just thinking really hard. Her hands pull at the strings of carpet and tears slide down her temples. I frown and reach behind Ryan's dresser for the target meant for throwing darts at. I put it on the wall in a place that makes sure I couldn't possibly kill Ryan unless I wanted to. I stand back and throw the first knife out of pure anguish. It hits the board barely on the edge.

"Why won't they just call already?" I say through gritted teeth. "Let's get this over with." I throw the second one. It's closer to the center, though Ryan can do better. She hits the center _every time._

"Put the other knives on the bed so that you don't have to worry about holding them," instructs Ryan. "Relax your grip on the handle. Don't hold it so close to the blade. Stand with your feet a little further apart. Why are you using your right hand when you know you're left-handed?" She gives me all these pointers on how to throw the next knife and when I do, it sticks just a little bit off from the center. "Not bad, Banker." I smile a little in triumph.

"You wanna throw the next blade?" I offer.

"Hells yeah," she replies. She gets up and walks toward my outreached hand that's gripping a red-handled switch blade – her favorite one. She takes the blade and grips it tight. She fingers it for a minute, then suddenly whips around and throws it so fast, it takes me a moment to see where it went. It's buried in between the eyes of a teddy bear on top of Ryan's bed post that I had left there when I was ten and forgot to bring back to my room.

"Nice one," I say. "But really? Did you have to kill Mr. Pickles? Couldn't you have killed some other teddy bear?"

"I'm sorry. He had to go. He creeped me out."

I rolled my eyes at her. "I loved him. He helped me through potty training."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "He was still creepy." I gave her a pointed look. "What? His eyes were red and they were always looking at me while I slept." We share a soft laugh.

"So the phone hasn't rung yet. Is that a good or a bad sign?" She shakes her to say she didn't know. Her eyes are darting everywhere as if she is calculating something.

Out of nowhere, she walks on to the balcony, and steps over the rail. I run after her in terror. She turns back to look at me. "It's not what you think," she says and jumps. My heart slams against my chest in a painful way. Too scared to do anything else, I scream and leap after my suicidal sister.

I fall down from the second story right into Ryan's arms. Since she's not strong enough to carry my weight when the impact is added, she falls on her butt. I get up completely unharmed and yell so loud that probably all the neighbors can hear, "WHAT THE HECK!" My head hurts so much from all the confusion that I have to sit down for a moment.

"Ow," mutters Ryan. "My butt."

"How are you alive?" I question her.

"Let me ask you something, Kory. If I committed suicide, would you then proceed to do the same?" she inquires harshly.

"How are you alive?" I ask again. She points to a pipe attached to a wall that drains the water from the roof. It trails along the side of her balcony. She must have slid down the pipe instead of jumping off the balcony. "Oh," I say stupidly.

"Oh is right. Did you really think I would commit suicide? And why in the sane heck would you jump after me?"

I blush from embarrassment. "Well, you see…the thing is-I – um – this is very interesting. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I don't know why I jumped. I just wasn't thinking and I –''

"Next time, please think before you end your life. If I really committed suicide, it would probably be some weird way to keep you alive, okay?" Too shocked from being stupid, I only murmur an okay. She groans as she pulls us both up. "C'mon," she says as we get into the Impala and drive away.

**So... did you guys like it? If so, Review! (Questions, comments, concerns, character death wishes, etc, etc...)Always remember to look at their pants, my friends! Stay gold!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello hello! Here is the third installment of The Survivors! Yays! Everyone starts dancing and cheering and drinking alcohol. Well, maybe not the last part, since we're (E and I, that is, Tardissoul) neither of us of age. So yeah.** **Hope ya'll enjoy it! Yays! I would like to thank everyone who reviewed this story! You guys make the world a better place!**

**Disclaimer: Sighs NO I DO NOT OWN THE OUTSIDERS OR ANYTHING RECOGNIZABLE IN THIS STORY. I know I'm sad too. Cries into sleeve and eats gigantic tub of cookie dough while watching Outsiders and Soul Eater. Sighs.**

**Enjoy!**

Ch. 3

Meet the Winston's

Several times, Kory tries asking me where we're going. I just tell her, "You'll see soon enough." Mainly I drive in silence. I don't speed or anything because my mind is already whirling at a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out if I'm doing the right thing. I don't need to get in another situation today, so no speeding. From time to time I look anxiously over at Kory. It isn't fair what I'm doing to her. It's selfish. She deserves a normal life and I don't have the right to take it away from her. But the way she was holding that blade, like she had so much anger in her, and how she's picking fights now, I have no other option. She had never thrown a blade before in her life. She threw darts from time to time but never blades. I had mixed feelings on whether I should feel proud or disappointed of Kory. She better toughen up, or she could be hurt so easily. I got her into this by joining her family. She started to act like me. It's my fault she is turning out this way. I dug us both into a hole and there is no climbing out. I can only dig further. And Kory's at a vulnerable state right now. I'd like to get past this state as fast as possible.

But I don't even know if they will accept Kory and me. We _are_ Socials after all. And we're girls – _no shit, Sherlock_. _But what about _him, I think to myself. There was something in me that told me that there was still a chance for him. I don't feel like he has left at all. I try to remember where exactly they like to be. My brother had once told me but that was years ago. There were two places. Some abandoned place on the Eastside and someone's house that was also on the Eastside.

I look out the window as I drive. The sun was setting, washing everything in orange light. "Are you okay?" Kory asks.

"What? Yea. I'm fine." But the truth is, I'm really worried and afraid. _What am I _doing? I have half a mind to turn the car around, but something stops me from doing it.

"Ryan, you're starting to worry me."

"I'm starting to worry _myself_, kid."

We're almost there when I spot a fancy looking car in my rearview mirror. _What's a fancy car like that doing in the Eastside?_ The drivers of that car are probably wondering the same thing about us. The car swerves from side to side, giving me the impression that the driver of the car is probably not sober. I curse and speed the car up a little. Though, the car is quite a bit behind us. I force myself to believe that they won't be able to catch up to us.

You could definitely tell the difference between the Westside and Eastside. Here, the houses are so dingy looking. They aren't taken care of as much, and the construction of them were done poorly. There is more trash on the streets, and the few passerby's I see look skinny and depressed. Everything is nicer and cleaner in the Westside.

"Kory," I start slowly "I just wanted to apologize in advance for throwing you into this. I'm sorry if this isn't how you wanted things to happen." She looks at me in total confusion. Her eyes demand to be met by mine, but I make sure that doesn't happen. I'm afraid if I look at her face, I'll brake down.

"What do you mean, Ryan? What in the world are you talking about? Where are we going?"

"Kory, there's something you have to understand," I say checking the rearview mirror. "I- _shit!_" The car with the drunk driver knocks into us from behind. My heart jumps into my throat, as Kory and I heave forward in our seats. I try to drive the car forward to get away from the drunk when his car spins around so that the two cars face different directions. Another impact comes from my left side just as quick as the first one, and the Impala threatens to tip over. I hear two voices screaming – one of them probably mine. My entire left side is in agonizing pain. The world spins and lights flash. My vision goes in and out of focus. The other car spins again and blocks the path in front of my car. I furiously start spinning the wheel to the right, but does no good. The third crash still comes and drags along the front of my car. The shrieking sound of metal scraping metal deafens my ears as, my body lurches forward in a whiplash. My face hits the steering wheel and my vision turns white for the second time in one day.

~ O ~

The first thought I'm able to comprehend is _pain_. When I realize that I can't see anything, I think that I'm dead. _If I'm dead, _I think, _fine. Let me be dead. But keep Kory alive._ _But how can death be this _painful_?_ Slowly, my vision starts to come back to me. Bits and pieces. Fuzzy dots. Then red and black spots. Then shapes. Then a shiny version of reality. I'm still in the Impala with my body hunched over. My head hurts a lot more than it has ever hurt in my life. This pounding, insisting pain of a headache makes me want to scream, – or hurl - but I can't find the muscles to do it. The next sense that starts coming back to me is my hearing. My hearing takes even longer to gain than my sight. I can hear nothing at first. Eventually, I hear a faint ringing that gets louder as the time goes by. I can't tell how fast time is moving. _How long has it been since I first started regaining consciousness? _My left ear pops and I can hear things from a distance as if I'm underwater. The terrifying sound of the wrecked Impala still running. Drunk voices swearing. My ragged breath coming in out of my lungs. My other ear pops and I can hear more but it still seems so quiet. I try to find my muscles. Everything aches so much. I wonder how much of my guts are pouring out right now. Finally, I am able to control my neck. I turn my head to the right. My heart gives a panicked flutter as I realize Kory isn't there and her door is open. I fight as hard as I can to make the rest of my ligaments move. I somehow manage to slowly crawl across the console and slip out onto the ground on Kory's side – there is no way I am going to get my damaged door open. Every part of my body is stiff and aching. I find Kory on the sidewalk, throwing up in nearby bushes. I get up from the ground and immediately the world goes topsy-turvy. I stumble toward the bushes and throw up as well.

When I'm through, I scoot back to look at Kory. She seems unharmed but pretty shaken up with tears flowing down her face. She finishes retching and turns slowly to me. Relief is plain in her face. She lunges and hugs me. I reach up slowly to hug her back.

"It's alright. We're safe. We're both alive. It's fine. I'm sorry I brought you out here," I mumble.

"I-I thought yo-ou were de-ad," she sobs out.

"I'm alive. I'm okay. I just blacked out," I comfort her.

"B-but you passed out with your eyes op-en so I thought…"

_How could I have passed out with my eyes open?_ "Shh…We're gonna be alright. Now we've gotta get up so we can go get some help, yeah?" She nods on my shoulder. I slowly and carefully get up and pull Kory up after me. I look at the Impala. Smoke is emitting from everywhere, but there is no fire. The Impala is driven halfway onto the sidewalk from when I tried to avoid the last blow. The back looks awful, but it got the softest blow. It got dented and torn and scratched. The second impact caused the whole left side to be bashed in and the driver's window's shattered to pieces. My mind flashbacks to the second where the window was blown in my face. I shudder involuntarily. The last blow makes the car look like it can't be repaired. The left half of the metal in front part of the car is now scraped up in the corner. My heart sinks as look at my car. I loved this car. It was a gift from The Parental Unit that I actually appreciated. The Parental Unit was so happy when they found out that I wanted something that was normal for a Social girl at my age, they went right out and bought it. I cared for this car. Kory and I had such good memories in it.

I turn to Kory, deciding it's time to go. She looks a little unstable, so I drape her arm around my shoulder and pull her along. Once we get past the Impala, the drunk Socials from the other car start shouting.

"Where do you think you're going?" one asks in a stupid manner. All four of them look pretty messed up with cuts along their faces. One of them is lying on the ground with blood oozing out of his arm.

"Going to get help," I call. "You stay here." That is good enough for them. I could get help in a second, for there are houses all around us, – I bet someone has already called the police – but I am looking for some certain people to help me. I get moving. Kory and I are extremely slow. With her instability and my soreness, I gotta admit, it is really hard to be fast. Paranoid, I look down at my stomach. My guts are, in fact, not coming out of my body. I guess, all this shock and aching is causing me to hallucinate weird feelings.

I estimate how far we are from our destination. If, I remember right, it's about the distance of a little less than a mile. I groan in my mind. "We're having a really messed up day, aren't we?" I ask the question to myself, but Kory decides to answer it.

"Sure are. I'm starting to think you're a bad luck charm." I laugh ruefully because it's true. "So you mind telling me where we're going?"

"To the vacant lot," I tell her.

~ O ~

It takes us quite a while to get to the lot. We keep stopping because I feel like someone is following us and we keep falling down. But eventually, we make it. We approach the vacant lot. A shadowy field with the street on one side and trees and bushes on the other. At the edge of the field, I can see the silhouettes of six or seven people. I stop and turn to Kory, thinking that it would probably be better if I explain this to my already-confused friend first.

"I was asked to be in a gang a while ago," I start. She squints her eyes at me like she kind of suspected that all along. She tries to interject, but I hold up a hand to stop her. "I turned down the offer so that I could look after you." And some other reasons. "Now, I think we've both been through enough for you to…handle the gang." I'm entirely sure 'handle' wasn't the right word, but oh well.

She looks at me a moment and this whole time, I think about how smart she is for thinking this hard. Then she just says, "Um…okay." Her dazed trance is not helping my problems.

I try for a joke. "Well, I would have thought you'd be a little more excited seein' as Ponyboy's in this gang." I make sure I don't say it loud enough for the boys to hear. Kory blinks twice at me and then she faints. I barely catch her before her head hits the pavement and think, _I have no idea if she's fainted because of the shock of the crash or because I mentioned her crush._ Then panic hits me. I try fanning Kory with my hand, but when I realize that isn't going to working, I flail my free arm wildly so that the boys would come over here. I probably look like an injured goose or something. As the boys run over I crouch there, propping up Kory whose skin is a lot paler than normal – and I am under the impression that she is part albino or poltergeist.

Three guys come over and the biggest one – a guy who looks like he's in his mid-twenties with pale blue eyes and dark hair – picks up Kory and starts carrying her off toward the trees in his muscular arms without a word. I follow him.

"Hi," I say, expecting him to introduce himself. I mean, he did just pick up my best friend and started walking off with her.

"Hi," he says. "What happened?"

"Car crash."

"How badly is she hurt?"

"I don't think she's hurt at all. I think it's just the shock of it all. We've had an…interesting day."

"She has a black eye."

"I've noticed." The man raises an eyebrow as if to say, _your sass is not appreciated. _"Like I said, we've had an interesting day, but that isn't from the car crash."

"So what brings you to the Eastside, gorgeous?" asks a guy with rusty colored hair. He was grinning like he never stopped grinning cuz the whole world was just too dang funny.

"Two-Bit, shut up and stop flirting," demands the one carrying Kory. When we reach the trees, I stop so that I'm still in the field, but the big guy – he's probably the leader – continues to set Kory down in between a tree and a bush. It disturbs me to see Kory so lifeless.

Another person comes sauntering over from the shadows. The others warn him to stay hidden but he ignores them. I recognize him immediately even though he's changed some. He's somehow taller and healthier looking from the last time I saw him. He looks handsomer too. His white blonde hair has grown darker and his cold blue eyes even colder. His tough and rough personality is clearly still there from the way he holds himself. My heart lifts at the moment I look at Dallas Winston.

I know it's a dream. I'm not stupid. But so much of me wishes that it's real that I can't help but just go along. Soon he's standing in front of me. Neither of us hug or smile or whatever you're supposed to do at reunions. Kory wakes up, but – for once – I don't pay any attention to her. She watches me in confusion. Dally and I stand there, staring at each other, taking each other in.

Finally he says in a troubled voice, "It's been a while, Ryan." I have no idea what reaction he's wanting from me. A 'welcome back from the dead'. Or 'yea, let's go get a pizza and act like nothing happened'. Or maybe he's just wishing I'd disappear. But the reaction from the rest of his gang is much worse than mine can ever be. One guy whistles and another guy – Two-Bit – says, "Awh. Look at the lovebirds bein' lovebirds." I flush furiously at the really gross awkwardness and Dally just ignores them.

I force myself to say something. "It's good to see you again, big brother."

Seven chins drop at once and say, "Big brother?" I just stand there thinking to myself, _out of all the things I could say to my brother, who I haven't seen in years, I just stand there like a freakin statue and say, _'It's good to see you again, big brother?"

But then I can't take it anymore. Everything I blame my brother for rises up and I slap him across the face. The others gasp. "Don't you ever leave me like that again," my voice trembles.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies. Neither of us have cracked a smile yet. I really want to ask him how in the sane heck is he alive, but this is a dream and I'll have time for that later.

"I love this," says Two-Bit. "It's like some really weird over-dramatized show." Dally and I just stare at each other for a few more long minutes. No smiles. No laughs. No hugs. Just a cold stare down between two very cold people. My mind is whirling with the possibilities of how Dally could possibly be alive. So far, I have come up with none that make sense. Unless you count alien technology and Superman powers as something that makes sense.

I don't want to ask, afraid that I'll wake up when I do, but my curiosity gets the better of me. "Am I dreaming?" My voice sounds dumb to even my own ears, but nothing happens. I don't wake up. Part of me thinks it will be for the better if this whole day _is _just a dream.

"Never could tell the difference from fantasy and reality, could ya, sis?" His eyes soften as he says it, but there is still no smile.

"Shut up, Dallas," I growl. That does it for him. Something in the way I say it makes the smile I've been waiting for appear on his face. "What?" I ask, irritated.

"You haven't changed a bit. Except for the fact that you've grown up." I look at him and tears swim before my eyes. The smile brings me back to times in New York when Dally would flash his crooked and reckless grin like everything was fine. I push the tears back as best as I can. His smile slowly fades away, when he seems to remember that his friends are all looking on, still very confused.

"Well, introduce yourself," Dally orders.

"I'm Ryan," I say with an awkward wave of a hand to the gang. "If you have not been rudely eavesdropping on our conversation – I know you all have – then I am Dally's sister."

"Haha. You got us, Dal. Now, quit foolin around," says a boy from the shadows with false humor in his voice. He was quieter than the rest. He seemed smaller too. When I look closely at him, I almost think – but it can't be true. Then again, if Dally's alive then maybe there is a possibility that he's alive too. Though, I'm still not entirely convinced that this isn't a dream.

"Look, I know this is gonna be hard for you guys to grasp," Dally begins in a bored voice, "but she really is my sister." The gang just looks at us with unamused faces. Like a crowd that a stand-up comedian is trying to make laugh, but they are too stubborn to do so – that, or the comedian has really crappy jokes. Everyone is staring at one another for a few minutes. I try to make eye contact with Kory, but she's busy gawking at, who I assume, must be Ponyboy Curtis. My hunch is confirmed when he walks further out of the shadows.

"Oh, I can't believe I haven't seen it before!" he exclaims with a gentle voice.

"Seen what Pony?" asks the leader of the gang.

"They're exactly alike!" Everyone in the lot wears the same confused expression except for Pony.

"They look nothing alike!" claims one of the guys. We all mumble in agreement. Dally and I looked _nothing_ alike. We're opposites. He has skin that is _much_ paler than mine – not that he has pale skin. I don't have the pointy ears and teeth that he does. And my hair is brown while his blond. He has blue eyes; I have brown. He is tall; I am, sadly, short. _Nothing alike._

"No. Not their _looks,_ their _personalities_," Ponyboy says in an eager voice. Kory has the same voice when she wants me to believe something she knows to be right. From the corner of my eye, I steal a look at Dally. His face has fallen somehow. Like he doesn't want to believe I'm like him. "I've seen you at school," Pony continues, speaking directly at me now. "You can beat someone up who's twice your size. I've heard about your witty humor. Oh, and I also know that you got expelled for doing _several_ things today." Dally's face turns to me full of what I am guessing is anger, but I haven't seen him in so long that I don't know what he could possibly be angry about.

"_YOU GOT_ EXPELLED?!" he booms. I cringe inwardly at the harshness of his voice.

"No. I got _suspended_. There's a difference, in case you didn't know," I reply, trying not to show fear. His eyes narrow at me.

"I guess it wasn't the best thing to bring that up, huh?" says Pony.

"It's fine, Ponyboy. I'll handle it," I reassure him. "Dallas, do try to calm down. It's the first time we've seen each other in years, and you're embarrassing me in front of your friends." I can imagine him sticking his tongue out like he would when I was little. But that was for the past, and to keep up with the present, you must move on from the little, childish things in life. So, Dally just clenches his jaw.

"Wait. So, you ain't joking?" asks Two-Bit.

"No, Two-Bit. Some of us actually have the ability to go two seconds without joking," Dally says harshly.

"Well, how come you ain't never told us about her before, Dal?" asks one of the guys. Sodapop Curtis. I've seen him at the DX quite a few times. He is just about the prettiest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. He's really sweet too. Always shrugging me off when I don't have the exact change for gas. My eyes meet his, and I avert my gaze to look at my shoes, hoping he doesn't see me blush.

"Because you didn't need to know," he snaps. _Okay, that hurt…a lot._ Being unwanted is nothing new to me, but it still hurts every time Dally pushes me away. The fact that he doesn't want his friends to know I existed is even worse.

"Where's she been all this time?" asks another guy. Stephen Rackle. Or something of the sort. He also works at the DX. Fixes my car from time to time.

Dally shrugs and starts speaking quickly, annoyed with all the Q & A. "The West side. Look, at one point in my years of New York, I made her come here. She got adopted by some rich family and I went back to New York to convince my dad to move here, so that I could keep an eye on her." They all nod their heads in comprehension. The gang all seem fine now. They didn't ask any more questions. Suddenly, they all seem to understand Dally's reasoning. But I don't.

Dally turns to me. "So why d'you come here?" he says with hostility edged in his voice.

I purse my lips. "I got in a car accident with some drunk Socs," I say like it's the most natural thing to happen in all of time. Dally raises his eyebrows slightly. "But that's not all." I take a deep breath and take this biggest risk I have made in a long time. "I was wondering…if possibly – only if you'd accept us – if Kory and I could join your gang." My words are mainly aim at their leader, since I was raised to ask leaders before anyone else.

The six members of the gang start talking all at once. They talk amongst themselves for a while. Except Dally. Dally keeps his gaze fixed on me, his eyes unreadable. Kory sees this as a chance to walk toward me. She's a little uneasy with her step, but able enough to make it to me. The boys keep talking.

"But they're girls!"

"They're Socs!"

"But she's Dally's sister! She _must_ have a Greaser side to her! And she wouldn't hang with the other broad if she weren't tuff enough!" I laugh softly in my head at the incorrect use of grammar. I wonder what I would do if they don't let us join. They probably won't and I'd just walk away, never to see my brother again.

"They could be workin for some Socs. Spyin on us, ya know?" _Oh, bite me, _I think to myself. But I know that they need to work things out for themselves, so I don't say anything.

"They ain't workin for no Socs. They're wearing jeans. No Soc would do that in a million years, especially girl Socs."

"But we can't just let 'em join. This a rough time. We need to keep low. Adding two broads to our gang is not the way to do it." I have no idea what the guy means by that, but it doesn't sound too good.

"And we don't know why they came here. All of the sudden, she just comes when she could have done it years ago."

"ENOUGH!" Dally yells. "You guys all bicker like old cat ladies!" I don't really understand how he makes the connection to old cat ladies, but Dally says it in a way that make people wanna run away screaming in fear. I almost forgot how threatening my older brother could be. "Now, why don't we just ask the girls why they want to be in the gang instead of you dimwits trying to figure it out for yourselves?" All eyes turn on me and I find my tongue as dry as a desert. I could get into the gang or be turned away depending on my next few words.

"Um…we want to join cuz we've been through some rough situations lately. We thought that you guys could help us toughen up."

"You Socs don't have it rough," calls Stephen – or whatever his name is.

"Things are rough all over," defends Pony. The words mean a lot to him. I can tell from the delicate way he says them.

"I think it's a perfectly good enough reason to let them into our gang," says Dally. "What do you think, Darry?"

"Yeah…sure. If you're a hundred percent sure that they won't cause us any problems, I think its fine," the leader unsurely says. _So that's Darryl Curtis_, I think to myself. "It'll be more than fine. You and your sister will be back together again, Dally. And like I always say, the more the merrier." I give a silent thank you to my brother and let out a sigh of relief. I feel Kory do the same.

"You don't always say that, Darry," Two-Bitt points out.

"Shut up, Two-Bitt." I'm guessing Two-Bitt's told that a lot. Just a guess. I notice Two-Bitt eying me skeptically. I don't blame him. It's gonna take a while for these guys to accept Kory and me – that is to say, if they ever accept us. I offer him a smile to be friendly. His frown deepens. He holds my eyes in place, keeping me from looking away.

I hear Dally say something about going to the Curtis's. Everyone starts moving except for Two-Bitt and me. We still stare at each other. I feel like he can see deep inside of me. Seeing every secret that I have ever kept. Every action I have ever done.

"_C'mon,_" I feel Kory hiss in my ear. I finally brake my gaze from Two-Bitt's. He trudges on, catching up with his friends. Kory and I stick to the back of the group. I still don't know if this is the right decision, joining the gang.

I notice that the gang kind of forms a box around two people. One of them is Dally. The other is – I was right, he's alive – Johnny Cade. I wonder why they do that. Could it be because they need to keep them hidden? From what? _Well, everyone _does _think they're dead. Maybe they want to keep it that way. _They knit themselves closer together as a car goes by which makes me suddenly remember about the car accident.

"Hey, Dal?" I call as we walk.

"Yeah?" he answers back, not bothering to turn his head to look at me.

"I just remembered that I've been in a car crash."

"And?"

"Well, I was just thinking, that I should probably go back and sort things out."

"Good point. I'll meet you back at the Curtis's, okay?" _Thanks for the help, _I think to myself and sigh inwardly.

"Hey, I'll see you later, mkay?" I tell Kory, starting to turn around. She starts to do the same.

"I'll go with you. After all, I was in the accident, as well." I look at her. With her paleness and instability, I don't want to take a chance with her, afraid she might pass out again.

"No. Kory, you're not in your best health right now." Her face falls a bit with disappointment. "I think it would be best if you went with the boys. Dally will make sure your treated right. Right, Dal?"

"Yea. Sure. Whatever," he responds, probably not listening to a word I just said.

I offer Kory a false smile. "I'll see you in a bit." She gives a little wave of her hand and I'm start to take off.

"Hey wait!" calls a voice that I instantly recognize as Sodapop's. I silently scold myself for being a stalker. I turn around again and he has broken formation, walking toward me. "I should come with you." My day automatically gets ten times better, and, for some reason, my face decides it's time to mildly blush.

"Should you?" That came out ruder than I would ever want it to. "I mean, would you?"

"Why not? I know a lot about cars and a girl like you shouldn't walk alone this close to nightfall." I blush again. _What did he mean by, _"a girl like you?" _He probably just doesn't know I could beat up almost all the people that come at me._ "Anyway, you probably wouldn't know how to get back to my house. Steve!" _Oh, so that's his name._

"Yeah, Sodapoop?" Soda flushes and I can't help but smile a little.

"Come with us. And don't you call me that or I'll knock your teeth out." Reluctantly, Steve walks with us as we go the other way toward the crash site. It takes us a shorter time to reach the car crash than I thought it would. I really must have been moving at a snail's pace before. Steve lets out a low whistle as he sees the wreck and the police cars swarming around it.

An officer comes up to us and says, "Y'all can't be here. There's been an accident that we're still investigating.

"I know," I reply. "I was in the car accident. I went to get some help." I gesture to the boys on either side of me. The cop evaluates things for a minute. He looks at me from head to toe and must realize that me looking like a wreck is not just a coincidence.

"Alright, then where are the people from the other car?" he questions.

"You mean they aren't here?" Confusion slows down my thinking and I can't grasp the situation correctly.

"No. They must have left when you were gone. They left all the doors open to their car so we know there were probably at least four of them. We don't know who they were but we've got a license plate that we're checking out now." Authority rings through his voice as he informs us on what he knows.

"But I told them to stay here." Stupidity is what describes my voice at the moment.

"Do you know what caused them to crash into your car? Or did you crash into theirs?"

"Um, they were drunk." I start giving the cop the whole story of what happened, remembering not to mention Kory. I don't really want to get her tangled up in this. The cop keeps nodding and scribbles in his notepad. Steve and Soda help me come up with a story of how I came across them. According to them, I was walking on the pavement in a very unstable manner when they found me. I collapsed and fainted for about ten minutes. When I woke up, I told them what happened and we came back here.

"Okay," says the cop. "Well, it seems like you didn't do anything wrong. If we need you for anything, we'll come and get you. What's your name, dear?"

"Rhianna Banker." I would prefer to say Winston, but, technically, that wasn't my name anymore. I hand him my driver's license and he scribbles more stuff down on his notepad.

"Thanks. When we find the boys who did this, we'll give you a call. Would you like an escort to the hospital?"

That takes me by surprise. "What? No. I'm not hurt." The officer nods in approval like, _look at this tough gal._ He walks away and I stand in his wake with incomprehension running about my mind. Soon, a tow-truck person comes up and asks about insurance and if he should tow the car to my house or the dump.

Before I can say anything, Soda says, "No. Take it to the DX workshop." At the DX, they had this very small – but good enough – auto garage where they fixed up minor 'injuries' on cars. The tower nods and takes off. "I'll fix it up, if you'd like."

"Thanks," – awkward blush – "but, Soda, isn't it a little too much damage? Shouldn't I just by a new car?"

He looks at me with mock offence, "Are you questioning my mad skills?" I smile at his teasing. "But, I think I can handle it. The damage ain't that bad. I think it looks worse than it actually is." I see Steve roll his eyes with a funny little smile.

"Thanks," I say again.

"And I'll be there to help this fool," Steve speaks up. "I'm the master off all cars, and, currently, I'm teaching this guy all I know." He jerks his thumb at Soda. "He's my apprentice."

"Apprentice? I had no idea you knew words that big. Good for you, Stevie." Steve looks proud of himself and I actually let out a real laugh. Soda looks pleased and I'm pretty sure he blushes faintly. My lips curl into a shy smile.

The three of us look at my Impala being towed away. "Wow, that's one hell of a car," says Steve. "Impala's are really tuff." He goes on about the car and what he'll do to fix it.

"You know you're bleeding, right?" asks Soda, gently.

I look at him blankly. "What?"

He nods. "You're bleeding. On your arm and forehead." He reaches his hand up to my face and I flinch backwards. He lowers his arm, and a hurt look comes to his face.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"You shouldn't be. You didn't do anything wrong. But you really _are_ bleeding." I lift my fingers to my left temple and wince at the sudden pain. Sure enough, they come away covered in blood. I sigh with disappointment at myself. "C'mon. Let's go back to my place. We can patch you up there." My heart thumps hopefully at the way he says, 'We.'

As we walk, the cold air nips at my bear arms and causes goose bumps to rise. I involuntarily tremble. "You cold?" Soda asks.

"Nah, I'm fine." _LIES._ But he doesn't listen and takes off his long sleeved plaid shirt to reveal a white tank and hands it to me. "Thanks." I offer him a smile and slip the shirt on over my fancy-ish blue shirt. When his eyes meet mine, I drop them again, blushing. I don't know why – I'm never shy anymore – but this guy…

"You know," says Steve, "we should play a game called Who Can Blush the Hardest. I'm definitely gonna lose, but you two stand a pretty good chance." That only makes us blush more. Steve bellows out with laughter.

~ O ~

The Curtis's house looks homey. My house is anything but. So, naturally, I fall in love with the house at first sight. It reminds me of the little apartment that Dally and I used to live in before New York.

"It's nothing much," says Soda as we walk up to the porch.

"I love it," I say truthfully with a smile. Soda just looks at me like I'm crazy. Steve opens the door without knocking and makes a beeline for the kitchen. As I walk into the very small living room, I'm awed as I see Kory laughing, sitting on the floor next to Ponyboy, and Two-Bitt is telling some joke. Johnny and Darry are there too. They all seem really happy near Kory, which I wouldn't expect. I have been thinking that the whole gang would hate us, but apparently not. Or maybe they just like Kory. Kory's easier to like than I am.

She looks at me expectantly. "Everything's all taken care of." She smiles and goes back to talking with Ponyboy. Soda tells me I should go sit on the couch while he gets some first-aid supplies.

Just as I sit down, Dally comes out of the bathroom and plops himself down on the left side of me. "Where d'you get the cuts from," he asks roughly.

"I was in a car crash, remember?" I say in a monotone voice.

"What about the bruise? I bet that wasn't from the accident. How big was he?" I look at him in wonder. "C'mon. I know the difference between a car-involved injury and a fist-involved injury." I was disappointed that he was talking to me like some wrestling buddy and not his sister.

I rub the sore bruise that was placed along my cheekbone. "He's a football player. Pretty huge."

"Why would you be stupid enough to pick a fight with a guy like that?" His harsh words sting like a million paper cuts.

"She isn't stupid," Kory says, defensively. I hadn't realized that everyone else was listening to our conversation. "She was protecting me. I got in a fight with some girl. Her boyfriend got involved and she protected me."

"Whatever," Dally says indifferently. Soda walks into a room of total silence. He awkwardly makes his way to me and sits on the ground in front of me. He has a bunch of bandages in his arms. Slowly, everyone starts talking again.

He looks at me and honestly says, "I have no idea what to do." Dally sighs and takes the stuff away from Soda. With a pair of tweezers, he hurriedly pulls the tiny shards of glass from a cut that starts above the middle of my left eyebrow and ends at my left temple. I try not to cringe at the pain of it. He then sloppily wipes the blood off my chin and neck with a dampened cloth. He cleans the cut with rubbing alcohol and I squeeze my eyes shut against the sting. He lifts my hair up so that he can finish with poorly wrapping gauze around my head.

He then commands me to take off the shirt that Soda gave me and I wonder if he knew about the cut on my left arm because he saw it at the vacant lot or because he saw the blood seeping through the shirt. He follows the same process with these cuts. My arm has three cuts all crossing over each other kind of like a sideways H. When he's finished, I mutter a thanks and he just grunts like he couldn't care less.

"Ya got lucky," he says as I shrug Soda's shirt back on. "The cuts were too shallow for stitches. They should scab over during the night."

Soda then sits on the other side of me and says, "You sure do know a lot, Dal." _You have no idea, _think to myself. Dally had learned a lot from when we lived in New York, but what makes him even wiser is that he taught himself.

Soda and I start chatting aimlessly. We don't stay on a single subject for more than ten seconds, but I don't mind. I just like talking to him. He's awfully sweet and funny. And he's got this wild spirit in his voice and expression that keeps me fully concentrated on him. He points out the whole gang to me. Saying who's who and what they're like. Johnny and Ponyboy are the sweet ones with the sensitive side. Two-Bitt is the wisecracker, always making jokes at everyone else's expense. Steve is good with cars and shows an interest in stealing things. And Darry is the unofficial leader of the gang. The boys don't exactly think of themselves as a proper gang, and, according to Soda, Darry likes to pretend that he isn't a part of it.

"Dally, your brother, he's the closest to a hoodlum as we boys get. He used to steal things and jump people. Every so often, he'd get himself sent to jail." I wasn't expecting Dally to be any different than Soda describes him, but it still kills me to know that Dally's like this. _Some things never change,_ I remember.

"And Soda," says Steve with chocolate cake all around his mouth, "he's the looks around this place. He knows it too. From time to time we'll catch him complimenting himself in the mirror." The whole room bursts out laughing. I know what Steve said is a lie, but it's still so dang funny. Soda excuses himself to go give Steve a piece of his mind. The two of them are soon on top of each other. Playfully punching each other until the other calls uncle. I see Two-Bitt and Dally exchange money in a bet. I look over at Kory, who is now sitting in the armchair with Pony on the arm and Johnny on the ground next to them. They're all laughing their butts off and I smile to myself. Kory looks so happy. Happier than she's been in a long while. I feel a twinge of guilt as I remember that's because of me. She catches my eye and smiles even harder, and I smile back.

I scoot closer to Dally. "Where have you been all this time?"

The grin disappears from his face. "What do you mean?"

I don't want to ruin the happiness of the moment, but my mind itches for answers. "You know what I mean. How are you alive?"

"Let's not talk about this here."

"Why not? I'm sure all of these guys know. Why won't you tell me?" I plead for answers, though he's too reluctant and stubborn to give them.

"Because I said I won't, Ryan. And that _means _I won't!" he snaps.

"Why did you leave me?" I blurt out, a lot louder than I meant to. Everyone turns to look at us and my face heats from embarrassment. With an annoyed sigh, Dally grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the house.

~ O ~

The darkness of the night covers Dally from the sight of neighbors. We walk out onto the empty street and face each other, five feet apart. Dally lights a cigarette and offers me one.

"I don't smoke," I decline, my voice shaking. In the light emitting from the flame of the lighter, I see the corner of Dally's lips curl up in a sort of half smile. I get impatient and burst out with eagerness. "So, are you gonna tell me what the hell is happening? I haven't seen you since I was ten!"

"That time when you were twelve…"

"For five minutes, Dallas! For five _freakin_ minutes!"

"Jeez! I understand that you're mad –''

"YOU _UNDERSTAND!? _You think you understand!? No, Dally. You don't! You don't understand what it's like to be left alone on some strange street at the age of nine! To be taken in by some random family and live with them for eight years! And for seven years, I didn't know if you were alive! Then a year ago - it was all over the newspapers!" I can't stop the tears from flooding down my cheeks.

"Ryan-''

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! FOR A WHOLE YEAR! I LOST IT, DALLY!" His face looks like it had been slapped over and over again. I can't believe that he's actually feeling some hurt from my words, yet I'm glad he does. "And now…to learn that you're perfectly fine – not giving a damn about me!"

Now his face looks like a lion. A very pissed off lion. "WHO SAID I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU?! _Huh?_ Cuz I'd sure as hell like to know!" I flinch at the ferocity of his words. He throws his cigarette to the ground and puts it out with his foot. "Rhianna, you're my sister," he says, desperately. "Of course, I care about you!"

"Then why don't you mind telling me that you're alive?!" I scream. I turn on my heel and walk down the street. I don't know where I'm going, I'm probably being irrational, but I don't care. I just have too much steam that I need to blow.

"_Where are you going_?" Dally calls.

"Anywhere where you aren't."

"You'll get lost…and end up in a ditch."

"I don't care!" I show him one of my special fingers and hope he can see it. Suddenly, he's behind me. He grabs my wrist and spins me around to face him.

"Listen to me!" I look in a different direction. "_Listen to me!" _He shakes me a bit and I look at his face.

"You have my full, undivided attention," I retort. He looks like he's about to slap me, and I find myself welcoming it. But, somehow, he manages to control himself.

"I did all those things – I left you – for you. I did it so that you wouldn't be hurt no more. It was so awful in New York, Ryan. I have no idea if you remember it – ''

"I _do._"

"Then, you'll remember that that place was hell. I couldn't bare you living in that anymore. And after what had happened…I had no other choice."

"Why didn't you come and get me after you moved here with Dad?" I choke out, weakly. Fresh and hot tears are still rolling down my face. I can taste the saltiness of them on my lips. Dally's pained expression makes me feel a little guilty, but I still want to know.

"You already had a life. You had a life as a _Social_. That is a much better life than I could ever offer you. I didn't want to take away the chance of having a better life from you. Besides, once I found the gang, I _did_ ask you if you wanted to join. I thought you were going to say yes. Why didn't you?"

My heart falls even deeper into an aching sadness. But I don't let Dally see me sad and decide to use my sadness and turn it into anger. "YOU _REJECTED _ME!" I shout with rage. I calm myself and manage to say in a soft – yet distraught – manner, "Do you have any idea what that does to people."

"Rejected you?"

"Yes, Dally. Left me and took off. Pushed me out of your life. Rejected me. You didn't want me! I was just in the way! I was too much of inconvenience!" I feel my voice rising. "How was I supposed to say I wanted to go with you? Believe me, I _wanted_ to go with you. I wanted to so much. But I would look so weak. It was my way of protecting myself. Not giving you the chance to push me away again. Don't you see?"

"So, it was just a sibling rivalry?" he says slowly. At first, I don't understand how it could be a sibling thing, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

"I guess. You left me and, after a long time, you came back. You told me you wanted to be with me again. That's like stabbing me – on purpose – and then saying sorry! Any sibling wouldn't go with you. That's the thing about siblings. One doesn't let the other get the better of them! Especially when the situation is between you and me."

"You _wanted _to go with me? You _wanted_ to be a greaser? How could you ever want that when you're perfectly happy being rich, well fed, and treated with respect?" He looks heart broken and guilty at the highest rate possible for Dally Winston.

"Cuz I would be with you, Dal," I say softly.

"And that's better _how,_ exactly?"

"You're my brother. You were the closest thing I had to family since Mom died. You were and _are _family. And you were the only one that loved me. Sure, I had an adoptive family that accepted me, but that is nothing compared to having a brave and tough older brother that loved me since the beginning."

He actually looks touched for a minute. "But I thought you like being a Social."

I shake my head. "I mean there _are _perks. Getting cool things. And living in places that aren't the sidewalks outside a grocery store. And actually going to school for a change. But I'd give those things up in a heartbeat to be with you. And I'm just tired of my adoptive mother trying to force me to wear dresses." I try to make a joke, but neither of us laugh. "I'm a greaser at heart, Dal. And no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't ever be a Social. I can't have that life. Not even if I wanted to."

"What about Kory?"

"I'm glad I met her. I _really _truly am. She's my little sister. But I wish I had never been adopted by her parents. I've influenced her too much. She deserves to be putting her hair in beehives, dressing in dresses, watching "I Love Lucy," and doing all those things that Social girls do. She's too violent because of me. And that's why I decided to be part of the gang. She needs to be toughened up. Remember? Toughen up or –''

"Toughen up or you'll lose before the game even starts," he nods at the memory. "Ryan, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for being a really huge ass." His voice sounds sincere and my heart contracts, tears pushing over the sides of my eyelids. "I'm sorry I wasn't the brother you wanted me to be." I run and throw my arms around him. I really need a hug. Slowly and unsurely, he wraps his arms around me. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm so sorry," he repeats over and over again, resting his chin on my head. His strong arms start squeezing the air out of my lungs but I don't mind. I love feeling like a younger sibling. All these years with Kory, I've had to advise _her_ and comfort _her._ But now, I am the one being comforted.

"I'm – sorry – for – yell – ing – at you," I say between sobs.

"S'okay, kiddo. You had every right to. I'll never abandon you again." And I believe him. I cry into his chest and he rubs my back the way my mom would when we were little kids. We hug for a good few minutes before I pull away, slowing down the sobs racking through my body. Dally cups my face with his hands and wipes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. "Have you gotten prettier since I saw you last?"

I let out a shaky laugh. "You always knew how to impress a girl." He smiles ruefully and ruffles my hair. A thought crosses my mind. "Hey, you wanna stay at my parents' house while they're away? I mean, it must get a little stuffy in the Curtis's. But, only if you want to, of course." I can't stop the hope from creeping into my voice.

"Sure, kiddo. Just no running around in your underwear." I smile at the memories. It happened a lot more often than you would think.

"Promise. Hey, Dal?"

"Yeah?"

"How _are_ you alive?" He lets out a breath of air that smells of cigarette ash. He drags me over to the curb and we sit down.

"A bullet-proof vest."

"A what?"

"A vest that is bullet proof. See, I was shot, but I was wearing a bullet proof vest. The vest prevented the bullets from reaching me."

"I've never heard of such a thing."

"No, you wouldn't have. I didn't know that there was something like that until that day." He looks at me and I look back, expecting him to go on. "That day, I was at this store. There were only two other guys in there. The cashier and this other man. The other man was looking at me funny. Like he knew me, and I didn't know him. This was just after Johnny died, so I didn't investigate. I stole something from the store and took off. I didn't know that the man had followed me. After I made a phone call to the Curtis's the man appeared and told me to put the bullet proof vest on. I tried to walk away, but the man _literally _forced it under my shirt. He told me not to tell anyone about it cuz it hadn't been invented yet. It seemed very futuristic to me and it still does.

"I took off. I followed through with my plan. I led the police to the vacant lot and raised an empty gun. They shot me and I fell to the ground from the impact and passed out. But I wasn't dead. When I woke up, I was in an ally and the man was standing in front of me. I realized that he saved my life so I thanked him, but I also flipped him off. I…had _wanted_ to die."

"What." My mind just goes blank, and when he says nothing, I'm forced to question further. "You _wanted _to die?"

"I was at a very low point in life."

"I can see that. But. Oh. My. God. I have a suicidal brother." He chuckles a lightly.

"Don't worry, kid. I'm fine now." He continues with his story. "I asked the guy how not to get caught and he said that he had friends in the police department that helped me fake my death. I just needed to keep a low profile. I never saw the guy since. I stayed in Texas for five months for things to settle down. Then I came back and told the gang the great news that I'm alive. When I came back, Johnny was also alive and with the gang."

"How?" I ask, half believing his story, half still trying to wrap my mind around the concept of a bullet proof vest.

"Well, the gang tells me that a month before I arrived, Johnny came along. He told them that he woke up the day before he went to the house. On the day he woke up, he was in a completely white room. The only things in it was the white stretcher that he was in and a machine monitoring his heart rate. A woman with a white lab coat and black hair walked into the room. When he asked what happened, she said that they had restarted his heart with those shocky things."

"A defibrillator?"

"Yeah. Whatever. And they reattached his nerves and healed them so that he could move correctly. They gave him some sort of medication to help with his burns and he was as good as new. Johnny says that the last thing the woman said was to not tell anyone and he passed out again. When he woke up, it was the next day and he was hidden behind a dumpster a few blocks away from the house. He then went over to the Curtis's. At first, not one of us believed that we were alive, but soon, we had no other option. The thing is, neither one of the things that happened to Johnny and I should have happened. They seem too advanced for this time."

"It seems impossible. Are you sure that's what happened?"

"That's what the people told us. And you know what I think? I think it's connected somehow. Like the lady that Johnny woke up to and the man that gave me the vest, I think they knew each other. Maybe they worked for the same company." He seems completely stressed as he talks about this.

"What are we gonna do, Dal? These kinds of things – these miracles – we wish for them, but they don't happen. Now it does. What do we do?"

He looks at me and smiles sweetly. "We enjoy it. Every minute of it. And we don't think about what is gonna happen until we need to. We ain't gonna do any worrying over this. We'll face the problem when the problem comes. If we start worrying now, we're gonna drive ourselves mad, ya hear me? So don't worry, kid." He drapes his arm over my shoulders and I lean my head on his shoulder.

"Dally?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to see you again." He then does something that I wasn't expecting. He turns his head to me and kisses me on my forehead.

"It's good to see you too, kiddo."

~ O ~

When we get back inside, everyone's still laughing and smiling. I hope that no one can see the redness of my eyes and put my most convincing smile on. The gang accepts both Kory and I faster than I imagine possible. Suddenly, all of us are joking around with each other. And soon enough, we got an arm wrestling competition going.

I sit down on the couch and watch as Kory miserably fails at arm wrestling Johnny. Two-Bitt sits down next to me. "I have a feeling that you don't like me," I say.

Two-Bitt looks at me and frowns a little. "It's just – ''

"You don't believe I'm Dally's sister." He shakes his head. "Why would I lie about something like that?"

"Girls lie all the time to get what they want. Dally could be paying you to lie."

"Why would Dally do that?" When I realize how stupid the question is, I say "Wait. You're right. Scratch the last question." He chuckles quietly. "Okay, I know people lie a lot. I do. But I'm not lying."

"I don't trust you," he says, flatly. "This gang has been through a lot and we can't have two little girls ruining it."

I purse my lips. "That makes sense."

"I don't think you understand."

"I understand a lot of things, Two-Bitt. I'm a whole lot smarter than you give me credit for. I understand that you're reluctant to let two foolish girls join your gang at a vulnerable time. You're afraid that we might mess things up when you're at your weakest and you won't ever manage to patch things back together. And that makes perfect sense. And I think you're wise for that. I wouldn't be much too willing to do this if I were you. But I'm not. And I know that I am not going to cause trouble for anyone but myself. Kory and I aren't the foolish girls that you mistake us for. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you don't ever have to trust me, but if you want to, I won't let you down." He takes that in for a minute.

"You seem like a pretty tuff chick. And I like giving people chances. So, I'll give you a chance. But if you mess up, even once, I'll will chase your tiny little ass all the way back to New York, and I'll make sure you don't ever come back." Seeing the wisecracker like this kind of makes wonder what the rest of the gang must be like.

"I'm feeling the love already." I give him a crooked grin. He, thankfully, smiles back. We look back to the arm wrestling that's taking place on the living room floor. Steve had just lost to Soda. Everyone tells me that it's my turn and I battle Ponyboy. I try my best and at first, Pony's really hard to beat. We both stay without our arms moving an inch for the first minute or so. Then Pony gets distracted from Dally doing something weird behind me. I take his distraction as an advantage and manage to knock his arm flat on the floor.

Then Two-Bitt and Johnny battle. Two-Bitt wins within the first few seconds. And everyone laughs. Next, Soda and Dally go against each other. It's a pretty long match, but in the end, Dally wins. Then, I battle with Two-Bitt. I know I'm going to lose within the first second. But somehow, I manage to draw the match out. He slowly pushes my arm to the ground and right before it hits, he loosens up and I slam his hand to the ground. Everyone cheers even though they all know Two-Bitt lost on purpose and I give him the evil eye. He just shrugs like, _whatcha gonna do 'bout it._

Then Darry and Pony battle and everyone cheers for Pony. But as we all know it, Pony loses. Then Dally and I go against each other. We lay across from each other with our stomachs on the ground. Our hands grasp each other's.

"You ready to lose, little sis?" he asks with his crooked grin.

"Are you, _little sis_?" I say back. Everyone oohs and I laugh in his face. Then the match starts. At first, he goes easy on me, but my hand still inches closer to the floor. Then he starts increasing the strength he displays. I have to grab his hand with both of mine to keep from losing. I still end up losing. He chuckles and I stick my tongue out at him. He gets up, picks me up by the waist, and slings me over his shoulder. He then throws me onto the couch and I barely avoid crushing Soda. I laugh uncontrollably for about three minutes before I finally manage to calm down. When I do, I see that the whole room is staring at me with straight faces. Then, simultaneously, everyone one bursts out laughing at once. Dally and Darry finish the competition and – as we all knew it would happen from the beginning – Darry wins. He is then honored as Ultimate Supreme Overlord of Arm Wrestling by getting dog-piled by all the guys in the room.

Things start to calm down after that. Steve eats more chocolate cake. Two-Bitt tells more jokes. I put my feet on Dally's lap and rest my head in Kory's on the couch. Soon enough, the noise of the room starts to slowly fade away as I nod off into a peaceful slumber.

I wake up to Kory gently shaking my shoulder. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," she says with a smile.

"Hey." I sit up and stretch. Dally isn't at my feet anymore. "What time is it?"

"Time to go home. Two-Bitt and Steve have already left."

"Where's Dally?"

"Already in the truck."

"The truck?"

"Yeah. Darry's giving us a ride so we don't have to walk all that way in the cold." I nod and yawn at the same time. Kory hands me my beat up black Converse. I don't know how they got off in the first place, – probably Dally – but I slip them on. I say goodbye to Johnny, Pony, and Soda, still half asleep, and walk out into the cold.

**Hai there! Hope ya'll enjoyed that snippet of story! Reviews are always welcome! My heart goes out to all ya'll for being so amazing because you took the time to read this little fanfiction! Look at their pants and stay gold! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello friends I am here with the nest installment of The Survivors! Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you for all who have reviewed! I send out my deepest thanks and give you many internet pastries. Okay now on to the boring stuff.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders or anything recognizable in this story, nor does E. I'm gonna go die in a hole now bye.**

**NOW ON TO THE PART YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR:**

**CHAPTER 4.1 OF THE SURVIVORS!**

Ch. 4 part 1

Dancing with the Devil

When we reach home, we get out of the Darry's truck and say goodnight and thanks and all that good stuff. Ryan unlocked the door and let Dally and me in. After I hit the light switch, Dally lets out a low whistle.

"Fancy house," he says.

"Well, we _are_ Socials," I remind him.

"You sure don't act like it from what I can see." I smile a little at that. My biggest worry about joining the gang is Dally. I don't trust him a hundred percent. He's a hood from head to toe. Despite Ryan's promises, I can't see him as her brother. Stories go around the town about Dallas Winston. He got himself arrested at the age of ten. I can't comprehend how Ryan could be related to him. Okay, Ryan did get herself in trouble from time to time, but never with the law. And I heard the way the two were yelling their heads off when they went outside. The whole gang heard it. We couldn't make out the words, but it seemed pretty awful. From what I understand, Dally had hurt Ryan emotionally. I remember the stories The Parental Unit had told me about Ryan when she first came here. She was an emotional wreck and delirious. It's odd to now have the man who did that to her under the same roof as her. I promise to myself that if Dally ever hurts Ryan again, then I'd make sure he could never see her again.

But there is a part of me that just doesn't want Dally to hate me. Maybe it's because I'm afraid of him. Or maybe I think that Dally can actually be a good guy and I don't want to get off on bad terms with him. Who knows?

"If you get hungry, help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen. You can sleep on the couch," Ryan tells Dally as we walk into the living room. "I would let you sleep in The Parental Units' room, but seeing as that's where they sleep together…"

"Parental Units?" questions Dally with a smirk.

"It's what we call my adoptive parents," says Ryan with a faint smile. "Can you go get some blankets, and a pillow, Kory?" I do as told and throw them to Dally. He catches them out of the air with quick reflexes. He puts them on the couch and does a visual sweep of the room.

"Why are there steaks on the ground?"

"Oh. We holding them to our black eyes and then we just left them there." Ryan picks them up and goes to the kitchen to throw them away. I mutter a goodnight to Dally and walk up stairs to go to bed.

After a while, I hear Ryan walk up the stairs. I'm about to drift off when I hear a strange thump from her bedroom. I walk into her room and turn on the light. I find her with her face on the floor and half of her body still in the bed.

"Did you just fall out of bed?"

"No. I'm giving the floor a hug."

"Then why are you crying?"

"It's an emotional moment…and I might have hit my nose really hard against the floor." I help her up and she wipes the tear away. "Besides, I'm not crying. I just got something in my eye."

"Both of them?"

"Yes."

"Okay." I go down stairs to get an ice pack. And as I pass through the living room, I see Dally looking at the pictures in an alcove in the wall, even though the lights are off. The pictures are mainly of Ryan and me being extremely weird, but The Parental Units think they're cute so they put them in little frames and everything. I walk past him to get the ice pack and when I start walking back he asks me what's wrong. "Ryan fell out of bed," I say with a smile.

"I GAVE THE FLOOR A HUG!" she yells down from upstairs. I chuckle to myself.

"Again?" says Dally.

"She used to do this before?" I ask.

"All the time."

"Well, she still does it." I'm pretty sure he smiles, but I don't know for certain in the dark. I walk back up stairs and throw her the ice pack. She puts it on her nose and purses her lips in a childish way.

"He told you that I used to fall out of bed a lot, didn't he?" I smile and say nothing. "I'm so gonna get him for that." I go and get my mattress and blankets from my room and drag them into Ryan's. She brings down hers and lays them on the floor next to mine. We do this a lot. It's like a little sleep over between two friends. I get a flashlight so we can see each other better. "Hey, Kory?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember before, when we driving to the vacant lot and I told you that I wanted to apologize in advance?"

I frown. "Yeah. What was that about?"

"For throwing you into this. I just made you join a gang without asking you about it."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure I would have done the same if our situations were reversed." I really don't mind what she did. Being Ryan, she probably had some practical reason for it. She probably wanted to do something that would 'protect' me while she's off in boarding school. The gang could protect me. But from what? Would they even protect me if there was something to from? Maybe it's a long process. Maybe has Ryan and I hang with the gang more, we'll all trust each other more. Maybe, eventually, Ryan and I will actually become part of the gang and the gang would care about us. Tonight, when everyone was being nice to us, I knew they were just being polite. No one entirely trusts us. Probably, Dally doesn't even trust us all the way. Well, at least, not me. But, soon, maybe we'd be accepted. Now, I'm just starting to realize how overly obsessed I am with Greasers.

"But, Kory, you don't understand. Not yet. Soon enough, we'll have turned into Greasers. In my opinion, it's not about what you wear and how much money you have. Those aren't the main things that classify you. They don't decide if you're Greaser or Social. It's your personality and actions. I know I'm sounding like some bloody motivational speaker or wise ass, but pretty soon, we're gonna be tough like Greasers. That's why I wanted you to be in the gang. You need to be toughened up."

"Am I really that weak?" We share a nervous laugh.

"No. I still don't know if what I did was just ridiculous."

"I don't think it was. Besides, all of the guys are pretty chill. When you left to take care of the car business, they were super nice and funny. Don't regret joining the gang. At least, don't regret it yet. Give it a chance. I think this will be better for us."

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "You're right. There isn't anything to worry about. We need change. This will be better for us." It sounds more like she trying to convince herself than me.

"And not because I'll get tougher. But because you'll be happier. I saw how happy you were today. I may be able to make you laugh from time to time, but when eight people make you laugh – that's a sort of happiness I haven't seen from you in a long time." I think back to what happened about a year ago. Ryan had fallen into a depression and no one in my family – not even I – knew why. "Last year, when you threw all those fits and became really sad," I begin slowly, "that was because Dally died, wasn't it?" She nods. Things had gotten really bad. She had to skip about a month of school because of it. The Parental Unit even tried taking her to a shrink, but of course, that just made her throw more fits. "And when you first came here, you were talking about a place in Texas. But it wasn't a place. It was a person – Dallas." Now that I had started to figure it out, I could put the puzzle pieces together more quickly. "And you were talking about New York. Because you just came from there." She nods again and tells me how Dally had left her in the street. How The Parental Units had found her and got leases signed to adopt. And the whole time Ryan had no idea about what was going on so she freaked out. She started screaming for Dallas to come and get her and take her back to New York. It had taken a while, but she finally realized Dally wasn't coming back and she had better not mention him anymore unless she wanted everyone to think she was crazy.

She then tells me about Johnny and Dally. How they're still alive. She tells me that I can't ever tell anyone. No matter what I do. Dally and Johnny can't be risk being seen in public. They can relax a bit while in the West Side, but they still have to be careful. I really can't believe what had happened to the two boys, but whatever happened, I'm glad it did.

"Okay, enough sad talk," I say rearranging myself on the mattress. "It's seriously making my think too much. People should not have to think this much at one thirty in the morning. Let's talk about boys!"

She laughs. "Really? We're having this talk? Isn't this a conversation you should have with your parents?"

"Not _that _talk!" She knows what I mean. She's just being difficult.

"You can completely honest with me, Korean." She tries to act serious, but she can't keep the smile off of her face. "If you wanna have 'The Talk', we can have 'The Talk'." We both laugh. I don't really know what it is, but Ryan and I have a really special connection where we could just say whatever we want. We are best friends and sisters. We aren't the girliest people, yet here we are talking about girly things. "Alright. Let's talk boys. So, you like Ponyboy. And there is no denying it! Don't even try!"

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks and I can't stop smiling. "Oh, Ryan. He's perfect. He's just what I thought he was like! He's even better! He's sweet, funny, and caring. A little shy which makes him mysterious! And he's so breathtakingly sexy!" I gush. Ryan lets out a squeal of high-pitched laughter. For a second, we're silent. Then we erupt with laughter at the sound that emitted from Ryan. I had no idea she was even capable of making that noise.

When we settle down some she says, "It kind of looked like he was into you, a little. He smiled when you talked. That's a good sign. Maybe you should ask him on a date."

"Yeah. Maybe. But, from what I hear, he's been through a lot lately. I wouldn't want to cause any pressure or stress for him. So, maybe, in a year or two, if I still have feelings for him – believe me, I will – then I'll consider asking him out."

She looks at me with her brown eyes full of wisdom and lips and a crooked smile. "You're so mature, Kory," she says softly. That makes me feel really good inside. Her voice is full of approval. "Restraint is good. You don't wanna get too clingy. But how do you resist it?"

"That's thing. I can't restrain myself. I'm gonna think of him every minute until I see him again." I turn over onto my back and look up at the ceiling. "Do you think he likes me, Ryan?"

"Uhh…I dunno. I mean, I think so. It's a possibility. But it's hard to tell with boys. I don't want you to get your hopes up."

I turn back onto my stomach. And move my body so I'm facing Ryan better and cross my legs in the air. "So what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"I saw you looking at Soda at the vacant lot. And at the Curtis's. You like him."

"I guess," she shrugs. "I've only met him a few times at the DX. He's awfully handsome…and charming. But he's probably not interested in me. I'm probably some bizarre girl to him. To him, I'm some Soc who's trying to be a Greaser. And not to mention, I claim to be Dally's little sis, which he probably doesn't believe."

"Well, it was sweet of him to lend you his shirt." I hadn't realized that she was wearing his shirt as a pajama top until now. "And he cleaned your injuries…at least, he tried to. That's gotta count for something."

"That was just southern hospitality, Kory. That's all." The way she says it makes me believe she wishes it was more than that. "He was just being kind to a new guest. There's nothing special about that."

"If you could date him, would you?"

"Oh, God yes! I mean, a guy like that doesn't come around that often. He exceeds in every aspect that a fantastic boyfriend should succeed in." She smiles at the thought of it.

"Aren't you worried that if you get too close to him, he might abandon you and it'll hurt like it did when Dally? I'm only asking this because I don't want that to happen to you." Her head turns to look at me.

"I haven't really thought of it like that, but I guess you're right. I wouldn't be able to handle another abandonment like that." _Way to go, Kory,_ I reprimand myself. _You just ruined the only possible happy relationship that your sister could ever have with a man. Ever._

I start to grow lazy with fatigue and I curl up under my covers more. Ryan does the same. "Ryan?" I yawn.

"Hmm?"

"What's Dally like?"

I takes her a minute respond. "He's a reckless fool. He's always trying to wrap another girl around his finger. Whether it's a Soc or Greaser. He hunts for danger a lot. My mom used to call him her little trouble magnet." I can hear the smile in her voice as she recalls the memories.

"What happened to your mom?"

"She died. She got sick when I was five. One day, she went to sleep and never woke up. The worst part is, I was with her when she stopped breathing. I was sitting at her bedside table. I didn't realize she was dead at the time. Dally had been trying to get our Dad to go get her medicine and he found me sitting beside my dead mother. Later, he had to explain to me what had happened."

"What was your dad doing all of this?"

"My dad – he isn't a good man. When my mom fell ill, he just stopped doing anything productive. He beat Dal and me a few times," she admits. "Dally told me that he wasn't all that great before my mom was sick either."

"How old was Dally?"

"Seven."

"I'm sorry. No one should have to go through that, especially someone so young."

"It's okay. I don't really remember it that much. Just fragments. Bits and pieces." She started telling me happy memories with Dally. When he helped her out of a tree that she climbed up and couldn't get down from. When they threw waded up newspapers at their annoying neighbor. The times when Dally taught her basic fighting skills. Ryan finally falls asleep in the middle of one of her stories. It was the first time in a year that she fell asleep before me.

I stay awake a little longer thinking about the whole day. The whole fiasco with school. And the car wreck. Learning that Dally and Johnny are alive – not to mention that Dally is Ryan's brother. And having fun at the Curtis's. I relive the moments of when I was walking to their home.

_I watched as Ryan walked away with Soda and Steve. The gang trudged on and I hurried to keep up, still at the back of the group. I stared at the last beautiful ribbons of the sunset._

_ At first, I didn't notice Ponyboy standing next to me, but then he tried to start a conversation by saying, "You're – I mean, the sunset is pretty." He blushed slightly and I was sure I did too._

_I looked up at him shyly and said the first thing that came to my mind – besides, "You're the sexiest thing that has ever walked the Earth." Instead, I said, "It's beautiful how all the colors blend together and fade into oblivion." I mentally scolded myself for saying something so stupid. I expected him to look at me as if I were a spider that needed to be squashed, but, to my happy surprise, he smiled in what appeared to be admiration._

_"I sometimes believe that sunsets are meant to tell us that there is something good in this world – something to look forward to. We just have to be patient and wait long enough for it to come." The look on his face lead me to believe that he thought a lot about this._

_I smiled, despite my shyness. Something then came over me – I blame the hormones. I said, "You're my favorite person right now." And I hugged him out of pure happiness – curse the hormones. Pony, taken aback, stumbled backward and fell to the ground, taking me with him._

_I blushed furiously, scrambled to get up, and offered Pony a hand, repeatedly saying sorry. He blushed and took my offered hand. We shared an awkward laugh and smiled at each other, still blushing._

_Two-Bitt looked over at us and said, "Hey! No canoodling or any of that gross stuff." We both blushed – again – and inconspicuously hid behind Johnny._

~ O ~

Ryan's alarm clock goes off at seven thirty a.m. the next morning. At first, I think someone has triggered the bloody fire alarm and I struggle to get up with the fear that I'm on fire. Then, I look down at myself, see that I'm not, and realize it must be the alarm clock. Too many alarms for too many things.

Ryan's still asleep on the mattress beside mine, and I move with a sigh to go get changed. In my room, I throw on some random clothes, not bothering to check if they're matching. (Don't judge. I'm still half asleep. You try sleeping for only five and a half hours.)

I don't exactly know when I fell asleep last night. All I know is that I fell asleep thinking about Pony and me walking to his house. I don't know how much of the dream was reality and how much of it my mind just made up. Everything seemed so real and it still does. I don't remember if we actually fell to the ground. I'm not sure if he actually almost called me pretty. And I don't even know if any of it was real.

I sigh, buttoning up my yellow shirt. I walk out into the hall to find a limp body on the floor. I give a startled little scream. I relax when it's just Ryan sleeping.

She jumps awake at the sound of my scream. "What? Where? Who's dying?" Her eyes search frantically for the emergency. Her lids grow heavy again when they don't see one.

"Ryan, what are you doing?"

"Wha d'you mean?" she slurs, on the verge of falling back asleep.

"Um…well, you're just sleeping…in the hall…without any blankets. And a second ago, you were in your room."

Her eyes widen as she remembers where she is. "Oh! Yes. You see, I heard you get up, so I crawled after you, and I seem to have fallen asleep."

"Okay," I sigh. "Go back to sleep. But this time, sleep in your room."

"Why are _you _awake?"

"Some of us have to go to school, Ryan."

"Oh, yeah," she says with a sheepish smile. "I screwed up yesterday, didn't I?"

"Mmm hmm. Now, sleep."

"No! I must make breakfast. I'm hungry."

"I bet you are. You didn't eat lunch _or_ dinner yesterday." She gets up, practically falls down the stairs, and trips into the kitchen. I walk after her, shaking my head with a smile on my face. I pass Dally in the living room, who's asleep on the couch.

In the kitchen, Ryan whips together the batter for pancakes and I watch at the kitchen table. See, Ryan doesn't like when I interfere with her cooking. I don't know why. That's just how she is. She always pours in a lot more sugar than necessary, but they still taste great.

After a while, Dally comes in, stretching with his shirt off. "What's for breakfast?"

"Sugar with a side of pancakes," I tell him. Ryan narrows her eyes at me and threateningly flips one of the pancakes with a spatula. Dally digs in the refrigerator and pulls out of the milk. He drinks straight from the carton and drains it. He throws in the trash and then burps. "Excuse you," I mutter a little too loudly.

He smiles at me and says, "I like you." Ryan stiffens and he looks at her. "What? Oh, Ryan I didn't mean it like that," he complains. "It was meant in a general term." I blush, just following what Ryan was thinking.

"It better be," she warns. She flips another pancake. Dally looks at what she's wearing. Sodapop's shirt and snug pajama bottoms.

"Why are you still wearing Soda's shirt?" Blush rises to her cheeks and I giggle a bit.

"Because."

"Because?" he prompts her with a smirk.

"Because, Dallas, I was half asleep! Do you honestly think someone is gonna bother with changing clothes if they're on the brink of collapse?"

"And so that's why you changed your bottoms and took off the under shirt? And that's why you gals were talking for a half an hour?"

"Exactly. Glad you see my point," she says stubbornly.

"Well, you were half asleep," I chime in. "And then there's the fact that you just wanted to breathe in Soda's scent." Dally erupts in a roar of laughter and Ryan gives me the evil eye while flipping another pancake.

"So, you like Curtis, huh?" Dal says in a brotherly way. (That way were brothers act like they don't approve of the guy but they really do.)

"I never said that!" she whines.

"No, but you were thinking about him and you in your dreams last night, right?" I tease cheerfully. "You _so_ like him."

"I don't know! Give a girl time to figure these things out for herself!" Dally and I share a laugh. He walks over and we make small chat about Ryan. She keeps eyeing us like she's gonna squash us with a fly swatter.

"What's taking so long? I'm hungry," Dally demands. I notice that Dally tends to be a very whiney guy.

"Don't rush perfection!" She wields her spatula at him like it's a weapon. He smiles tiredly and then goes to sit at the table. When Ryan's finished, she puts the pancakes on plates and hands them to us. When I'm done, I put my plate in the sink and to leave for school. I have to leave early because I didn't have Ryan's Impala to take me.

School is a disaster. All day, people make rude comments and stop me in the hall to give me their unwanted attention. They just keep blabbing and blabbing and blabbing about all the gossip they've heard. Even a few of the Socials that were 'friends' of mine repeatedly interrogate me.

"Oh my god, Korean! Is it true?"

"Yes."

"Did Ryan really get suspended?"

"Yes."

"It's true that she's really an animal?"

"Yes, Jill. It's true that Ryan went to follow the rainbow and she found a leprechaun that turned her into a chipmunk." I probably will have said eight different versions of the same story by the end of the day.

I don't pay attention to any of my classes. Instead, I bite on my pencil and wonder if it could be possible to drown a fish. Or if it's possible to go pull open a door that specifically says "push". I would do it if it _is_ possible. Just to prove the world I can.

In Physical Education, the coach asks me some question. The problem is, I have no freaking idea what he just said. Normal people would ask him to repeat the question, but no. Not me. _Okay we're learning about cardiovascular stuff. What's related to that?_

"Antarctica," I answer. _Smooth. _The worst part is, I say it confidently. The class bursts out laughing, everyone thinking it's a joke. I shrink into the bleachers foolishly hoping no one can see me. I look over at Ponyboy – who happens to be in this class – and to my relief, it looks like he hasn't heard a thing. He's staring off into space.

At lunch, I sit alone at my table. I could probably get a few people to sit next to me, but I'm anti-social when Ryan's not with me. I don't really mind being alone. It's kinda nice and relaxing. I'm get to drift away with my thoughts, which I've been doing all day, anyway. It's peaceful…all until Valerie and her girls decide to sit at the table next to me again. But wait! It gets better. This time, they've brought their boyfriends too! Great, now I get to sit here while the lot of them make fun of me. For a while, that's all they do. They make rude comments and giggle and whatnot.

Then, all of the boys walk over and sit down at my table. "Oh, please," I say sarcastically. "Why don't y'all join me?"

"Enough games, Korean," says one of them.

"I wasn't under the impression that we were playing a game. But if you'd like, I think I got a pack of cards in my bag?" I use the same smart-mouth style that Ryan does. Hopping that will make them go away. No such luck.

"I _said,_ enough games!" The guy pushes my half eaten sandwich to the ground.

"Ooh. _Someone's_ a bit angry."

"Listen, smart ass," says Eric, "I remember that you attacked my girlfriend yesterday. Now, I know you ain't a girl. You're an animal. So, I won't feel bad doing what I'm about to do." He gets up. One of the guys grabs my arm and forces me to stand on my feet. Eric slowly walks around the table. My heart thumps with fear and I figure that I only have a few seconds to talk me out of this.

"Look, fellas, I'm not looking for a fight, but if you really wanna, try the wrestling team. I bet they're always in the mood for it." My voice comes out in a high pitched tremor.

"You're little Ryan isn't here to protect you anymore," Eric says.

"No," says a different and familiar voice. "But I am." A figure walks in between Eric and me.

"Ponyboy," I gasp with relief. I work my way out of the grasp of the guy hanging onto my arm.

Eric laughs but backs up a few steps. "What are you gonna do, Curtis? Write a story where I die?" He laughs again.

Through gritted teeth, Pony says, "That story's true and you know it. You can't deny it; your own friend died."

"Yeah. And so did yours." Pony's eyes have a little hurt in them, but you'd have to be looking really hard to see it.

"Stop, Eric. Nothing happened to your girl yesterday. She's not hurt. There's no reason for this."

"I can do what I want to. How are you gonna stop me?"

"Oh, probably the old fashioned way: getting the principal. Yeah, that's right. You don't want any more detention, do you? And I'm sure your buddies don't want some either. So just go away. No one wants your ugly face around." He clenches and unclenches his fist. For a second, I think he might actually hit Pony, but then one of his friend whispers something about Pony being right. Eric punches the guy in the stomach and he falls to the floor. Then Eric started walking away with his friends following in his wake.

Pony turns to me. "You know, for a second there, I didn't think that would work," I admit.

"I didn't either," he smiles sheepishly. "You're alright, though?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Can't say the same about this guy though," I say, bending over to pick up my destroyed sandwich.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Wasn't _your_ fault." _He's so kind, _I think.

"If you want, I can buy you a burger at the Dingo. There's still enough time before sixth period." Ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of my mind is screaming, _Yes, YES! Go with him. _But that little part of me knows that Ryan, my parents, and the principal would kill me.

"Uhh…I don't think I should. Sorry Pony. Maybe next time?"

"Yeah. Sure. Next time. See ya later then?" This time, I can't tell if he's hurt or not.

"Definitely." He walks away and I'm forced to sit at my table with nothing to do or eat. _Awh,_ whines the ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of me. _You should have gone with him. Now you're just sitting here _wishing_ you had gone with him._

_Shut up,_ says the tiny one hundredth of me.

_No! Never! You'll never take me alive!_

_I'm so weird, _says one hundred percent of me.

~ O ~

After the last period of school, I grab my bag and start to walk out of the class room. I feel and twinge of annoyance toward Ryan for getting her car wrecked, because now I have to walk all the way home, no doubt getting shot with some more rude comments the whole way.

To my pleasant surprise, I see Ponyboy standing outside, leaning against the wall opposite of the class. With my curiosity, I gain the courage to walk up to him. He smiles a little when he sees me. He peals himself from the wall and meets me halfway.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi. Whatcha doin here?" I inquire.

"I thought I'd walk you home." He blushes. "I just thought that you wouldn't want to walk alone and that maybe I could make sure no one bothers you like what happened at lunch."

My mouth stretches into a smile. "That's nice of you." My walk home won't be so bad now. I have company. Good company. "Though, I think I think my place is a little far from your place. Wouldn't you prefer if someone from the gang could drive you somewhere?"

"Oh, I don't mind. Besides, I'm meeting Steve and Two-Bitt at Stop n' Steal. That ain't too far from your place."

"You know where I live?" I ask, astonished.

"Darry told me," he say, blushing further. "Last night, I was wondering what took him so long to get home from dropping y'all off."

"Oh. That makes sense." I nod a little. "Shall we go?"

"We shall."

Pony and I talk about school as we walk. Teachers we think are okay and teachers we think are just downright stupid – like questioning-if-they-even-got-a-degree-stupid. We talked about the essays and projects we're receiving in class. Then we get talking about books and we don't stop till we reach the house.

At first we talk about Gone with the Wind, but that seems to bring back too many emotions for Pony. Turning the subject around, I bring up The Odyssey. He admits that he hasn't read the book yet and I beg him to. I tell him how wonderful and adventuress it is. We start talking about how they should teach more about the Ancient Greek times at our school.

"What's your favorite book ever written?" he asks me.

I think about that for a bit. "I can't choose. There are too many!"

"C'mon. Name the one ya like the most."

"Don't make me! I can't. I simply can't! Choosing between books is like a parent choosing between children! There are too many books in the world that are so great. And you just can't compare them to each other," I gush. I smile so hard that my cheeks stop to hurt, but I can't stop.

He chuckles. "So, is there a book that is your least favorite?"

"The Great Gatsby."

"What? How can you not like The Great Gatsby?"

"I never said I didn't like it. It was really great and I loved it; it just wasn't my favorite. Daisy was so careless and I hated her. She didn't care at all at the end. She just went off with Tom and Pam like nothing happened… and the whole book wasn't that interesting."

"I thought that you said you can't choose between your children," he reminds me with a smirk.

" The Great Gatsby is no child of mine," I laugh out. I talk easily with Pony. We compare people we know to characters in books. We talk about our favorite attributes to our favorite characters. The independence in Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice – though, Pony has not read the book. The shyness of Boo Radley. The psychotic side to Jay Gatsby.

I love watching Pony talk about something he loves. It's like watching the sunrise. First, he's timid, but then he gets absorbed with his own thoughts. And there's a light behind his green-gray eyes that grows brighter and brighter. And at noon, the sun is at its highest, shining its brightest. Pony's as vibrant as the sun on a cloudless day. He unconsciously grins as he talks and he uses his hands.

Too soon, we've reached my house. I smile timidly at Pony. "Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem." I open the door to see Ryan, to the left of the foyer, in the living room. I walk inside and Pony stands in the doorway.

"Are you _vacuuming_," I ask Ryan. She looks down at the vacuum that she's dragging across the carpet.

"Yeah, obviously," she retorts.

"You've never done a day of cleaning in your life!"

"And that means that I can't start now?"

"Why would you?"

"I love cleaning! It's my hobby! I think cleaning will become my occupation when I grow up!" she says thoughtfully. I hear Pony try to stifle a laugh from behind me.

"Ryan, what _are _you doing?"

"Vacuuming, my dear Watson."

"Stop referencing Sherlock Holmes and tell me what's really going on."

"I got _so_ bored," she complains. "Believe me, I didn't want to clean. But you were taking forever."

"I was at school."

"My point exactly. So, anyway, I did everything. I changed clothes, I went shopping, I tried watching the T.V., I tried reading, but everything got so boring and I ran out of things to do. I started dusting, sweeping, and dishwashing. And, at the moment, I am currently trying vacuuming." She's still dragging the vacuum on the same patch of carpet.

"You've only been left alone here for _one_ day."

"It's been a pretty long day."

I roll my eyes at her and she sticks her tongue out. Then I notice something wrong about the scene. "You do know that you have to turn the vacuum _on_, right?" Her face falls.

"What?" I nod at her. "No wonder. I've been doing this for about an hour and nothing has changed. I just thought our floor was extremely dirty." I sigh, walk over, and plug the cord into the outlet.

"And then you just flick this little red button to where it says 'ON'," I inform her. The vacuum cleaner roars to life. And Ryan nearly jumps into my arms at the suddenness of it. She then proceeds to vacuum.

She looks over to the open door and, for the first time, sees Pony standing there. "Oh, hey, Pony," she yells over the noise of the vacuum.

"Howdy, Ryan."

"Look at you. Being sweet and all, taking Kory home." He just stands there awkwardly and for a second, I have this strange vibe that Ryan's my mom. _Horrific day dreams._

All of stand there in an awkward silence until I smell something burnt. "What's the smell?" Ryan takes a whiff of the air and eyes widen.

"That would be the quiche." And she runs into the kitchen leaving the vacuum still on. Pony and I exchange weird-out faces.

"Gee, your sister is a pretty strange gal."

"She's adopted?" He chuckles. "Look, whatever she says, decline her invitation for dinner."

"What?"

"If she's serving burnt food, trust me, you'd rather eat coal. I can't get out of the situation. I'll just have to endure it." He laughs again. "I'm serious, Pony." Ryan's cooking is outstanding, except for when she forgets about it and it overcooks. She skips back to us and continues vacuuming.

"So, Ponyboy, it might not be the best meal ever, but you're welcome to stay for dinner." The sound of the vacuum is too loud and he can't hear her.

"What?" he yells.

"You should stay-''

"Wha?"

"Come-''

"Sorry, I can't hear ya."

She gives an annoyed sigh and viciously yanks the cord from the wall. "I said, would ya like to stay for dinner." Pony looks at me. My eyes try to warn him.

"Um, I'd like to, but I have to go meet Steve and Two-Bit at the Stop 'n Steal."

"Okay, well tell everybody I say hi."

"Sure. I hope you both get better with the cuts and bruises." _Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot_, I think with a bit of annoyance.

"Thanks," Ryan and I say in unison.

"Bye, Pony," I call.

"Bye, Kory. I'll see you." I nod and he turns to leave the house. I close the door behind him and lean my back against it. I quietly laugh – for some weird reason – to myself.

"Oooh, Kory, you've got it bad," says Ryan, coming towards me with a smug look.

"Stop," I smile, walking away from the door.

"Not until you admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That you have a big old crush on Ponyboy Curtis."

"No."

"Do it."

"Why?"

"Do it. Or I'll go chase him down and tell him."

"You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?" Her eyes brighten at the idea.

"Fine." I sigh. "I have a crush on Ponyboy Curtis," I say in a small voice.

"What? I'm sorry. I can't hear you."

"I have a crush on Ponyboy Curtis," I say in a normal voice.

"Louder."

"I have a crush on Ponyboy Curtis!"

"Louder!

"I HAVE A CRUSH ON PONYBOY CURTIS!" Just then, the front door opens and in comes Dallas Winston with a black hood covering his face.

"What now?" he asks, pulling back his hood. He's smiling and Ryan laughs. "What's this about someone having a crush on Pony?" He looks at me, and I blush furiously, partly hiding myself behind Ryan. She isn't any help. She pulls me out from behind her then wraps her arms around me, squeezing me to death.

"My baby sister is in love! We should celebrate!"

"Celebrate how?" asks Dally suspiciously. I am on his side with his cautiousness. As you might be able to tell, Ryan does irrational things sometimes.

"Let's go out for dinner!" I slip from her grasp and turn to her.

"You just wanna go because you failed at cooking dinner." She points a finger at me with a really strict face and opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. She closes it, thinks for a minute then tells me to shut up.  
"Too bad. We can't go to dinner," says Dally.

"Why not?" I ask.

He gives me a judging look. "I'm supposed to be dead. What do you think everybody will think if they see me in a diner eating in a burger?"

"Oh," I say stupidly. I can't help but pity Dally with his situation. I look at Ryan who's wearing her thinking expression.

"Dally, what if we went out of town to eat. They probably won't recognize you and they won't know that you're supposed to be dead anyways," she suggests. The idea seemed good enough to me, but Dally didn't think so.

"Ryan, they'll still find me. There's bound to be someone who recognizes me. There could be someone from this town who decides to go to the same place as us. It's too risky."

"You? Dallas Winston? Who's known for being riskier than anyone known on this planet? You're afraid to go to dinner?" she teases with her crooked smile.

He crosses his arms over his chest with a pout that I knew all too well from Ryan. "I said no and that means no." His deep and rusty voice makes me want to stand down even though I am not even the one standing up to him.

"You said the same thing last night. You said that you wouldn't tell me about what happened; you still did." I can't fathom how she has the courage to keep pushing Dally. Perhaps, it's cuz they have the same genes. When Ryan realizes that Dallas doesn't seem like he's gonna give in anytime soon, she steps toward him and loops her arms around one his, hanging there with neither her feet nor butt touching the floor. Dally's muscles flex under her weight. "Please, Dally. I haven't seen you in _so _long. I wanna spend time with you. Please?" She lays the sweet-talk voice on thick.

With a sigh, he pulls Ryan up and says, "Alright. But I ain't payin'."

"Yay!" she cheers. "Thanks, Dal. Just lemme get ready and we can go."

"Ain't what ya got on good enough?"

"No. Don't complain. It's your fault for going to dinner with a girl." She starts running up the staircase.

"What a Soc," Dally mutters under his breath.

"I heard that," she calls down. Dally and I are left to awkwardly just stand there. For some reason, I get the feeling that Ryan left just so that we could 'bond'. He leans against the wall and I just stand there.

"Hey, uh, Dally," I say shyly. "Do ya mind not saying anything to Ponyboy?"

"'Bout what? Oh, you mean that you have the hots for him." A snide smile creeps onto his face.

"Please don't."

"Don't worry, girl. You're secret's safe with me." I don't really believe him, but it's the best I can do. "Besides, if I did anything to upset you, Ryan would have me roasting over a fire in a heartbeat." I offer him a wary smile. We wait in silence until Ryan comes down with her hair pinned in a twist to her head in a navy blue pantsuit. We then walked out the door to see a faded blue pickup truck. Dally gets into its driver's seat.

"What's this?" I ask.

"A truck," Dally retorts.

"Well, yea. But where did you get it?" Ryan questions.

"This guy named Buck. I picked it up earlier. Don't worry he won't notice it's gone. And I know he won't so quit worryin' your ass and get in." She slides in and I go after her.

"Is dad alive?" she asks out of the blue.

"Well, he ain't dead, yet; I'll tell you that." She wears her thinking look during the whole ride to a diner three towns over. The lights whizz by as Dally speeds through the streets. I have to say, he is not a good driver. He turns corners abruptly, jerking the car along with such force that my cheek collides with the window a few times. He honks at nearby drivers for mistakes that _he_ makes.

**Classic Dally driving. It's okay Korean, I hate people (except Ponyboy) too! Hey, guys! I've got an idea! How bout we all review this story and tell the author (and her publisher hinthintnudgenudge) any questions, comments, concerns, things you absolutely love about this story, characters you want to be killed off (well, maybe not that last one...). Hope y'all liked it as much as I loved it! **

**Look at their pants and stay gold!**

**-Tardissoul**


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